It May Be Rainin'
by tajuki
Summary: *Complete* "We often give our enemies the means of our own destruction." Aesop Fables: After the Tri-Wizard's Tournament, Harry hopes for a peaceful, normal year. But gathering clouds on the horizon fortell rain. *Full summary on author's page.
1. Letters

Disclaimer: The characters of the Harry Potter series belong to author J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Bros. No infringement was intended in the writing of this piece of fiction. Only Anni, plot and situation belong to me. (Other characters of my design may appear in later installments of this story. Since I have created them as well, they also belong to me until otherwise released through a tragic and painful death.)

Author's Note: I have an insanely involved and intricate story to relate that will appear in three parts. Since I am a very organized and ordered individual I must begin my story at the beginning (picking up directly after Rowling's fourth year story, _The Goblet of Fire_.)

I do apologize to any of you who feel that they are drowning in a sea of worthless fifth year stories. Allow me to throw you a life preserver as I fervently promise that this is absolutely necessary for the continuity and integrity of my story. Oh yes, it also has a rather unexpected ending. Well, I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I am enjoying the writing of it.

Chapter One

Letters

_"why don't you come to your senses…"_

            In the smallest bedroom at the top of the stairs at number four Privet Drive, Harry Potter lay awake on his bed unable to sleep, musing over the events that had taken place only a month ago. Voldemort had gained full physical strength and was amassing an army of Death Eaters, Harry assumed, at this very moment. The Dark Lord's return was made possible when Harry was captured and forced to supply an ingredient to Voldemort's regeneration potion. "The blood of the Enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." Harry gave an involuntary shudder at the memory that suddenly crept into his mind. He tried to distract himself with other thoughts—thoughts no less unpleasant to dwell on, however.

            "How will I be able to face all of those Hufflepuffs when I return for fifth year?" He usually pondered this and other questions of the same nature well into the night. He would be going back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in little more than a month. He thought nervously about the negative attention he was sure to receive from the students upon his return. 

            Harry had spent nearly every night since that of Voldemort's return in this somber manner. He thought about Cedric Diggory, the popular Quidditch Seeker and pride of the Hufflepuff House: about how he was murdered by Voldemort, about how it was all his, Harry's, fault. He let out a small sigh and shifted his head on his pillow. He knew that the rest of the school did not blame him for Cedric's death, but he couldn't help feeling that there was some way that he could have prevented it.

            His mind wandered in this fashion for several minutes before settling on another thought. Cho Chang, the beautiful Ravenclaw Seeker that he had admired for the better part of a year, had gone to the Yule Ball last Christmas with Cedric. Harry had a pretty good suspicion that she and Cedric had grown very close during the months between the ball and Cedric's death. This point had troubled Harry to no end the entire summer. Cho was supposed to be his. He had asked her to go to the Yule Ball with him only to be rejected as Cho awkwardly informed him that she was already accompanying Cedric to the ball. Was he feeling jealousy toward Cedric?

            "Get over it, Harry" he muttered to himself. "You can't have Cho, she was Cedric's girl! How could you do that to him?" He sighed and shifted.

            Glancing at the alarm clock on the corner of his textbook-and-parchment-littered desk, Harry was not surprised to see that it read a quarter after one in the morning. Hedwig, Harry's snowy-white owl, was asleep in her open cage on the opposite side of the desk. She had been sleeping for hours after her return from delivering a weekly letter of Harry's, keeping his godfather, Sirius, informed of all that was happening at the Dursley residence. This was indeed boring stuff to relay as nothing particularly interesting ever happened at number four. Nonetheless, Harry had promised Sirius that he would write to him every week. Hedwig had returned with no reply.

            "He must be extremely busy" Harry thought as he dismissed the fact that there was no letter for him upon his owl's return. Absently, Harry returned to his reverie. "Remus Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, and Arabella Figg, you know, the old crowd." Dumbledore's voice echoed in Harry's ears. Harry had heard Dumbledore speaking these words only a month earlier to his godfather on the night that Voldemort had come back. Harry hadn't seen Sirius since. Moreover, only a few times had he received an owl from him since that time.

            "What could Dumbledore have meant by this?" Harry's head swam with the theories of powerful Aurors and Death Eaters. He knew Remus Lupin was connected with Sirius. They had gone to school together, and they were close friends. Two years ago, they had reconnected and, as far as Harry knew, had kept in touch with one another. But what about the other two? Harry was sure that he had heard those names somewhere before. What could Dumbledore possibly want with them, how were they all connected? He let out another agitated breath. There were never any answers to these questions no matter how much sleep he had lost over them.

            Harry looked over at the sleeping Hedwig and decided to follow her example and get some rest. He rolled over on his side and stuffed his pillow under his head. Just as he started to drift off, he heard a tapping sound on his window. It was Pigwidgeon. 

            "I am never going to get any sleep tonight," Harry muttered with resignation as he kicked off his coverings and made his way to the window to let the tiny owl in. Pigwidgeon—Pig for short—was the owl that belonged to his best friend, Ron Weasley. The little ball of energy zipped inside the room and began to circle excitedly over Harry's head. He rolled his eyes at the bird's enthusiasm at such an early hour. He snatched him out of the air to untie the letter that it was carrying on its tiny leg. The letter was addressed to Harry in Ron's unmistakable scrawl. Harry opened the letter hurriedly, letting Pig alone to flutter about the room. Harry read:

            Hey Harry,

That fat, stupid git Dudley isn't bothering you too much, is he? I hope your summer is going well. Fred and George are helping me with Quidditch nearly every day. They reckon I'll have just as good of a chance as anyone at the Keeper position. Do you know if Dean and Seamus are going to go out for the team? Oh no, do you think they will cancel Quidditch this year on account of You-Know-Who?

Anyway, Harry, I have a bit of bad news. Mum's been in touch with Dumbledore lots in the last month or so and she's asked if you could come and stay, but he thinks that you would still be safer with your muggle relatives. He reckons you should stay the whole summer there until you catch the train. It's not fair! It's been almost like a tradition for us to get together before school starts. I mean, Hermione's still coming, but it won't be the same without you. She might actually make me study. Well, Harry, I don't want to spend the rest of the summer not hearing from you anyway. So, write me back and tell me every evil trick you play on Dudley. Maybe we could meet in Diagon Alley on the Friday before school starts? Write me back soon, Harry!

-Ron

            The contents of the letter hadn't surprised Harry in the least. He knew that Mrs. Weasley was pulling every string that she could get her hands on. Somehow, with all that was going on in the wizarding world, he hadn't expected Dumbledore to concede, no matter how much Ron's mum had protested. 

            Harry glanced over at the calendar on his wall where he counted down the days until he was to catch the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross Station on September the first. To his dismay, he saw that he had just over a month left until then. He shrugged his shoulders, threw the letter on top of his open Potions textbook and climbed into bed. He would just have to make do with his time at the Dursley's. The thought of two more months in that house was not a promising one. He shut his eyes and went to sleep.

***

            Nearly two hours later Harry shot upright in his bed, horrified by the images he had just seen. The lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead was searing with pain.

The fact that dreams such as this one had been waking him more frequently was not reassuring. Harry had been having nightmares in which Voldemort was capturing, torturing and killing innocent people—people he did not recognize for the most part. Harry knew that these were much more than dreams that would disappear, as the morning grew brighter. The pain in the scar on his forehead served almost as a warning signal, set off by particularly murderous thoughts or actions of Voldemort's.

            Harry had experienced the same pain from his scar last summer when he had a vision of Voldemort murdering an old muggle and performing an Unforgivable Curse on his servant, Wormtail. Dumbledore had thought that this was more than a dream. Harry was somehow connected to Voldemort because of the curse that had backfired on him, giving Harry his now famous scar. He believed that Harry was witnessing actual episodes of the Dark Lord's terror.

            His head was throbbing with pain. He clapped a hand over his scar that was burning fiercely on his forehead. He sucked in a breath of air through his teeth and held it, waiting for the pain to subside. After several excruciating minutes, the throbbing finally stopped.         

            Harry removed the hand that was covering his scar and wiped his watering eyes, reaching for his glasses with the other. As soon as the room came into focus, Harry turned to glance at the alarm clock, which read three-thirtysix in the morning. He let out a long, deep sigh and fell back on his pillow. Taking even breaths to calm his racing heart, Harry closed his eyes and tried to recall the exact scene that had startled him out of his sleep. Unlike most of his other dreams, he recognized one of the faces in it. The man who owed his very life to Harry, yet the same man who had betrayed his parents, had his outstretched hand wound around the neck of another man who's back was to Harry. He was almost sure that he had recognized the second man, but could not think who it might be.

            In another flash of white light, Harry had seen this same man on the ground, screaming with pain as Pettigrew stood over him silently mouthing a curse and pointing his wand at him. Harry's eyes suddenly shot open as he tried to recall whether this scene had come first in his dream or last. He wasn't sure that it mattered in which order the man was tortured and murdered, but he was certain that it was the same man and that he was familiar. Even the sound of the man's voice, as he howled in pain, had a familiar ring to it that Harry recognized. He knew that this man would soon die in the exact manner that Harry had witnessed in his dream, or maybe he already had.

            Harry sat up and pulled the coverings off of his legs. Getting to his feet, he walked over to his desk and rifled through a few rolls of parchment before he found a blank piece and a quill.

            Sirius had specifically requested that Harry owl him immediately if he was experiencing anymore pain in his scar. He agreed with Dumbledore that Harry's scar served as an indicator of Voldemort's evil intentions.

            Complying, somewhat reluctantly, with Sirius' request, Harry began his letter. He was worried that it may distract Sirius from whatever important mission Dumbledore had sent him on. "He was too busy to reply to my last letter," he thought logically. Harry felt guilty for burdening his godfather with all of his problems, when Sirius was dealing with far more difficult ones of his own. Harry let out a sigh and determined that the letter had to be written. Putting his quill to the parchment, Harry wrote:

Sirius, 

I hope my other letter reached you, wherever you are. I wasn't sure it had because Hedwig returned without a reply. I don't want to bother you even more, but I had another dream tonight and when I woke up, my scar was hurting me. Voldemort wasn't killing anyone in my dream, but Peter Pettigrew was. He performed the Cruciatus Curse on a man, or at least, I think it was the Cruciatus Curse. I couldn't tell who the man was, though his back was to me. And then Peter reached out with the silver hand that Voldemort had given him and he strangled the guy who then collapsed in front of him. I think he killed the man. 

Anyway, you asked me to write you if my scar started hurting me again. This is the first time that it has since I left school for the summer. I've had other dreams about Voldemort's victims, but this is the first time my scar woke me up. Sorry to bother you. I know that you must be very busy. You don't have to write back, I just thought that I would let you know. I hope everything is fine with you.

-Harry.

            Harry reread the letter to make sure that it contained everything that he wanted to say. He shoved the letter into an envelope and stroked Hedwig until she opened an eye. 

            "You have to take this to Sirius right away." He gave the envelope to his owl and opened the window as she flew out with a screech. Harry stopped to listen. No sounds came from his aunt and uncle's room; they were still asleep. 

            Knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, Harry used the last few hours before dawn to finish his Potions essay on 'The discovery of Boomslag Skin and its importance in magical mixtures.'


	2. News of a Visitor

Disclaimer: No one new to claim as of yet. The original characters of the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. I own the plot however, its mine all mine. 

Author's Note: Anni makes her appearance. I know original characters are not generally well received but may I say that Anni is no Mary-Sue, how could she be? She's a Dursley! So stick that in your pocket and get to reading, already!

Chapter Two

News of a Visitor

_"the things that are pleasing you can hurt you somehow…"_

            At five minutes before six in the morning, Harry set down his quill and pushed his finished essay aside. He pulled Ron's letter out from under his Potions book and reread it. He was mildly jealous of Hermione and the fact that she was going to spend two weeks at the Burrow with Ron and his family and Harry would have to stay at the Dursley's until September the First. 

            "Oh well, at least I have Diagon Alley to look forward to." 

            This was by no means a consolation for being left out. The Burrow was his favorite place to be—well, almost. Hogwarts was his favorite place of all. It was his home. 

            Harry shot a glance at his calendar on the wall. Thirty-five days until he would catch the Hogwarts Express on platform nine-and-three-quarters.

            Harry put a hand up to his mouth to stifle a yawn and rummaged around on his desk for another piece of parchment. He thought for a moment about how to reply to Ron's letter. He started, in what he hoped was an off-handed sort of tone:

Ron,

Yeah, Friday before we catch the train sounds great. Let's meet in front of Florean Fortesque's. I can't wait until then; I just have to make sure that my uncle will take me into London. I'm sure he will agree. All I have to say is, "going upstairs to finish that letter to my godfather, you know, the escaped convict?" It always does the trick. But just in case, I'll try to stay out of everyone's way. 

Nothing much has been going on here; I have mostly just stayed in my room. I just finished my last essay and, I have to say, Boomslag Skin is not very interesting at all. I'm sure you and Hermione will have loads of fun, just don't let her study too hard. She needs to loosen up for the last two weeks of the summer. Teach her how to play Quidditch, if you can get her on a broom. I wish I could come too, but I figured Dumbledore wouldn't let me. Write me back and tell me everything you two are up to.

-Harry

            He folded the letter and placed it inside an envelope, setting it aside for when Hedwig returned.

            Harry let out another great yawn, surveyed himself in the mirror on his open closet door and got dressed. He then went downstairs for breakfast.

Harry came into the kitchen and slid silently into his chair. It had become routine, the way his only living relatives ignored his existence, even when he was in the same room as them. He stared at his plate, empty because aunt Petunia was still preparing breakfast. He absently listened to the sound of the television in the corner. Dudley was watching cartoons. Then, another sound caught Harry's attention—letters dropping in from the mail slot.

"Go get the letters, boy" uncle Vernon said as he sat across the table from Harry, reading the morning paper.

Without a word, Harry slid back out of the chair and into the hall. Rifling through the letters, Harry walked back into the kitchen and handed two bills and two letters to Vernon. Harry's uncle put down the paper and turned his attention to the mail. 

"Hmm, bills" Vernon muttered to himself as Harry returned to his chair. "Letter from Marge" Vernon said to Petunia as he took a sip of coffee and tossed the letter on top of the bills.

Harry looked up at Vernon as he read the address on the envelope of the last letter. He was almost sure he had seen his uncle's eyes widen in surprise as he choked on his coffee. "Look at this, Petunia. I wonder what they want?"

"What is it dear?" Petunia chirped, carrying a frying pan full of bacon to the table. 

"A letter from John and Marianne," Harry's uncle said with the faintest hint of amazement in his voice.

Petunia stopped in mid-motion as she was shoveling out bacon onto Dudley's plate. Recovering her composure, Petunia made her way to Vernon, looking over his shoulder as he unfolded the letter and began to read. All the while Harry moved his food around on his plate, too distracted to eat.

Dear Vernon, 

I trust your lovely wife and adorable son are well? 

            At this uncle Vernon gave a snort.

We are all well here in Portsmouth, I assure you. John and I are planning a small vacation for the end of this month and we were curious to know if you and Petunia would be kind enough to look after Anni while we are in France for our anniversary?

            Harry's head shot up from his plate at the mention of the name and began to listen intently.

            Petunia let out an indistinguishable sound at the question Vernon had just read. Harry could tell that she did not look pleased at the prospect. Vernon read on:

We should only be gone for two months.

            Vernon paused to exchange a look of annoyance with his wife.

We, of course, asked around among our acquaintances here, first, but no luck! Anni won't be too much of an inconvenience, I assure you. You need only to keep her until the First of September. She leaves for Saint Sophia's School for Girls from King's Cross Station then, and she would only be spending the month of August with you.

Petunia scoffed at the impertinence of the woman.

Of course, John and I would be eternally grateful, Vernon, if you could watch Anni for us just this once. 

Vernon's eyes lit up like Dudley's did at Christmas dinner.

You are a dear brother!

Love from your sister, 

Marianne

Vernon refolded the letter and placed it on top of the letter from Marge. Petunia took her seat and began to fill her plate. Staring at his half-full cup of coffee, Vernon was the first to speak.

"I can't think of any excuse why we couldn't-," but he was cut off by his wife's shrill voice.

"Absolutely not, Vernon! She's almost as bad as that one there!" She nodded in Harry's direction. Harry quickly returned his gaze to his plate of untouched food. "Just think of what poor Dudders would have to endure. Imagine, he would have to spend the end of his vacation with her" Petunia continued. Dudley looked up from his cartoons just long enough to give his mother a pitiful and helpless glance, then returned to shoveling eggs into his pudgy face.

"But Petunia, she's my niece and-," he was interrupted once more.

"Don't you remember the last time she was here? Dudley wouldn't come out of his room the whole time, she had him so terrified. She's the worst sort of child. Your sister spoils her, you know."

"Yes, dear," Vernon retorted mildly, "but that was Christmas—five years ago! Our Dudley is a fine young lad and he's more than capable of standing up to a girl." Vernon clapped his son on the back proudly. Dudley didn't look up from his show.

"But Dudley is such a sensitive boy!" remarked Petunia gazing lovingly at her child while Harry tried to stifle a laugh. Vernon gave him a look over his coffee cup that made Harry stop giggling at once and return to his breakfast.

"Why don't you just admit what this is really about, Vernon. You just want John's business. I know you've been trying for three years at least to persuade him to use Grunnings, and you think that letting Annabelle stay here for the summer is going to change his mind." Vernon sputtered; his wife had hit the nail on the head.

"It's only a month, Petunia. Besides, Marianne is my sister. What would she think if we refused?" Vernon and Petunia were always concerned with what others thought. Petunia, even though her feelings toward her husband's niece were less than warm, had always maintained to John and Marianne that Annabelle was a "dear, sweet child" and that she was "exceedingly fond of her." 

"Fine, Vernon" Petunia relented as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips. "It's only a month, I suppose." Her expression was pinched and more horse-like than ever.

During this entire conversation, Dudley had remained entranced by the television, absent-mindedly finishing his heaps of eggs and bacon. He had little interest in the conversation that had just passed, but Harry had listened intently to every word.

Harry remembered that Christmas when Anni had come to visit with her parents. He and Dudley were ten at the time; she was eleven. Anni was the only member of the Dursley family that Harry actually liked. Her parents, John and Marianne, treated Harry with kind indifference, which was better than the treatment he received from Vernon and Petunia. Anni, however, had befriended Harry, becoming somewhat of an ally in the constant war between him and Dudley. The prospect of Anni's visit made his grim situation a little brighter. He would not have to suffer through the entire summer at the Dursley's without a friend.

***

Unable to sleep as usual, Harry lay in his bed with his head under the covers and a flashlight propped between his chin and chest. _Flying with the Cannons was open on his lap. Harry usually had his late night study sessions by flashlight and under the blankets as not to disturb the sleeping inhabitants of the house. He watched as the players in orange robes flew by on broomsticks._

            Books had been a great source of distraction from the thoughts that had lately haunted him. Harry snapped the thick book shut, turned off the flashlight and pulled the covers off of his head. He glanced at the alarm clock; it read 2:03 am. He had been fifteen for two whole hours without being aware of it. Harry placed the book on his desk with a pile of others and glanced one last time at the birthday cards he had received from his friends, Ron and Hermione and Hagrid, the Hogwarts Gamekeeper. Even though this wasn't the first time Harry had received birthday cards, he still hadn't gotten over the novelty of them. Next to the cards was a package from Ron. It contained several Filibuster's No-heat, Wet-start Fireworks and a generous supply of dungbombs. He reckoned he and Ron could put them to good use when they returned to Hogwarts.  Hermione had given him a book for his birthday. As Harry looked at it, he gave a slight chuckle. The title of the book was _The Wise OWL's: Lessons From Wise Witches and Warlocks on Passing the Ordinary Wizarding Levels With Success. This gift was in typical Hermione taste. He groaned at the thought of the OWL's. He, Ron and Hermione would be taking them at the end of the upcoming year. On top of the book was a large brick of homemade fudge from Hagrid. If it was like the rest of Hagrid's cooking, Harry thought that it would be best to leave it for Dudley to find in the morning._

            It was a wonderful feeling to know that someone cared that he was turning fifteen. Harry took off his glasses and placed them on top of the pile of books, plopped himself down on the bed and attempted to fall asleep.

 Only minutes after closing his eyes, the unmistakable sound of Hedwig's beak tapping on the window roused Harry. Instantly, he threw off his covers and ran to the window to let her in. Hedwig fluttered into the room and perched on the infamous confection of Hagrid's creation. She had a letter tied to one leg. 

"I was wondering if I would see you tonight" Harry said. But, glancing at his clock, which now read a quarter after two, Harry corrected himself by adding "er, this morning."

He stroked the bird gently as he removed the letter. Unfolding it, he immediately recognized the author's hand. He read:

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! I'm sorry I couldn't reply sooner—I've been busy lately. I have once again discussed your dream and the pain in your scar with Dumbledore. This event seems too much of a coincidence to be passed over. Neither of us could venture to guess who the other person was in your dream, however. I'm sure that you have nothing to worry about as long as you're with the Dursleys. I am sorry that you will have to remain there for the rest of the summer, but I agree that there is no safer alternative. Keep me posted on any other strange occurrences—tell me everything!

Oh, I almost forgot. I have enclosed a small present for you. I have been carrying this around with me for a while and I wasn't sure when the right time would be to give it to you.

Harry turned the letter over and the writing continued on the other side.

It isn't much, but it meant a lot to me. We were about your age then. I want you to have it now.

Sirius

Beneath the last line of the letter was a wizard's photograph of a smiling Sirius with his arms flung around a younger Remus Lupin and a man with shaggy, black hair and round glasses—it was Harry's father and his two closest friends.

Harry was stunned. This was by far the best birthday gift that he had ever received. He stared at it for a while, mesmerized by the three smiling faces. Harry let out a small laugh as he watched the two dark-haired boys shove the lighter-haired boy out of the frame of the photo.

Forcing himself to take his eyes away from the people in the photo after spending several minutes in this fashion, he set the photo on top of a book, took off his glasses and climbed into bed. Sleep came almost instantly.

***

"And playing for the English National Team, our very own Harry Potter!" The crowd went mad as Harry flew circles around the Quidditch pitch, waving as he heard them chanting "Harry, Harry, Harry."

"Harry, wake up!" He opened his eyes and sat up, startled. A girl with brown, curly hair and shining sapphire eyes was smiling over him.

"Anni?" Harry said, in a half-yawn.

The girl nodded and giggled. Harry just stared, grinning in amazement. 

"I didn't think you would be here so soon after your mother's letter." He stopped to think. "It only just arrived two days ago."

"My parents are leaving for Bordeaux in the morning. Uncle Vernon phoned yesterday morning to say that I could stay and here I am" Anni said, grinning and jumping on to Harry's bed, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. Harry reached over the stack of books on his desk and grabbed his glasses. Putting them on, he glanced at the alarm clock that said it was 11:24 in the morning. Harry hadn't slept in at the Dursleys as far as he could remember.

"Why aren't you up and at 'em yet?" Anni questioned.

"Long night" was Harry's short answer. His eye caught the wizard photograph on his desk. The wizards in it were laughing and shoving each other around. Harry quickly reached over and threw Sirius' letter over it before Anni had time to notice. He was planning on letting his cousin in on his secret life as a wizard, but he just hadn't figured out the best way to say it yet. "Hey, Anni" Harry thought, "you'll never guess what I've been up to since I saw you last…" No, that sounded lame.

"Happy Birthday!" she said as she noticed the birthday cards on a shelf above the desk. "I'll let you get dressed." She jumped off the bed. "Nice owl." She gestured toward the sleeping Hedwig. Maybe telling her about the wizarding world would be easier than he thought.

Harry got dressed and put away his birthday presents—and anything else that would cause suspicion. He then made his way quickly down the stairs, wondering if his sleeping late was going to cause trouble for him with uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia. As he made his way into the kitchen, where Dudley was watching television while Anni idly chattered to him under the watchful eye of Petunia, he saw uncle Vernon glare at him accusingly over the morning paper. 

"You, in the hallway" was the greeting he received. Harry retreated into the hall followed by a red-faced and anxious-looking Vernon. Anni shot an apologetic glance at Harry before his exit. Petunia continued to sip her coffee and keep watch over her Dudders.

"I didn't mean to wake up so late, I didn't get much sleep last night and…" stammered Harry.

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about" interrupted Vernon impatiently. "I want to make sure we see clearly on a few things. While my niece is visiting I don't want any funny business—no talk about your 'abnormality,' your school or anything of the sort. You are to be on your best behavior. Do I make myself clear?" Vernon towered over Harry. His voice had become a low and raspy whisper when speaking the words "funny business."

"Yes," Harry replied, adding just the right amount of dejection to his voice he deemed necessary to placate his uncle.

"You will tell your cousin, if she should ask, that you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Any nonsense from you, boy, and you'll regret it. And I don't care who your godfather is." As Vernon said these last words, he tried hard to keep his voice from trembling, but Harry perceived the nervousness Vernon struggled to hide. 

Harry, who loved to hold his escaped-convict-accused-murderer-godfather over his uncle's head, had to fight hard to hide a snigger.

Uncle Vernon, feeling that he had sufficiently intimidated the boy into compliance, returned to his coffee and newspaper in the kitchen. Harry followed.

As he slipped silently into a chair at the table, aunt Petunia set a plate of toast in front of him and snapped in a low voice "trim the rose bushes in the garden when you're finished." Harry nodded in compliance and ate eagerly.


	3. More Visitors

Disclaimer: Yep, I still only own Anni, the plot and a puppet that oddly resembles Albus Dumbledore, glasses and all. It's not much, but I still consider myself a pretty lucky girl.

Author's Note: It's a slow start I know. But hang in there, I see a plot on the horizon and I think its headed in this general direction. I'm thorough. Please forgive the length. I write under the constant fear that I will leave something out, so I try really hard not to.

Chapter Three

More Visitors

"Now it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table…" 

           In the sunny and well-kept garden behind the Dursley house, Harry was at work trimming his aunt Petunia's rose bushes. Anni sat in the grass nearby and talked to Harry while he finished his task. "So is it true that you attend some special school for incurably criminal boys, or was uncle Vernon just pulling my leg?" she questioned. Before Harry could answer in the negative, she added quickly with an excited expression, "Did you finally get tired of all of Dudley's crap and give him the beating of his life?" Harry laughed. It was clear that Anni hadn't believed a word their uncle had said. "No," Harry answered. "Actually, I attend Hog-." Harry paused mid-sentence. He thought he heard a whisper in the rose bush, like some one trying to get his attention. He listened. 

"Harry."

He heard it this time. There was no mistake. 

He had the horrible thought that the mischievous house-elf, Dobby, had returned to the garden to "protect Harry," which meant "make trouble for Harry." 

"What did you say?" Anni had not caught the words of the half-sentence Harry had uttered when he became distracted. 

"Huh?" Harry mumbled, not listening to her. 

He peered into the bushes, but saw no sign of the house-elf, or anyone for that matter. He perched on the tips of his toes to peek over the low garden wall. He saw three heads, all with the same shocking red hair. There were Weasleys in the garden.

Anni had left her place in the grass and had joined Harry at the wall. Harry, not noticing that she had, in like manner, discovered the visitors, was deciding what to do when, he heard her voice cry, "Oi, who are you? I'm Anni. Are you friends of Harry's? I didn't think you had any friends Harry!" 

Harry turned slightly red as his cousin carried on excitedly. Fred, George, and Ron were startled by the curly haired girl who spoke rapidly. Fred, George and Ron smiled knowingly at each other. 

"Who's your friend Harry?" George asked, grinning at Harry. 

Harry stammered, "Er, she's my cousin." 

Fred and George smirked. "Wow, Dudley, you've changed." Fred sniggered. 

"Dudley! Do I look like that fat, stupid git to you?" Anni retorted, feigning annoyance. 

"I'm Fred and this is George," exclaimed Fred, clearly amused with Harry's companion. "And this is our ickle Ronikins," cooed George, rumpling his little brother's hair. Ron looked agitated. 

"Geroff!" He shoved George's hand away. 

"This is my best friend, Ron," Harry added his own introduction to that of Fred and George sensing Ron's embarrassment. "What are you three doing here?" Harry quickly inquired. 

"We couldn't let you spend an entire summer without seeing a Weasley, now could we?" George answered. "It was Hermione's idea to come and visit you," added Ron. "Er, we won't get you into trouble, will we Harry?" Ron sounded concerned. 

"Not if my aunt and uncle don't find out," Harry shrugged. "Hermione's here?" he added glancing around, expecting to see his bushy-haired friend close by. 

"Yeah, she and Ginny are across the street. "Oi, Ginny, Hermione!"

Hermione and Ginny stepped out from behind a bush and made their way over to their friends. 

"Hi, Harry! Hi, er…" Hermione stammered. She thought she recognized the girl standing next to Harry. 

"Hermione, this is my cousin, Anni, and…" but he was interrupted before he could conclude the introductions.  

"Did you say Hermione?" Anni questioned excitedly appraising the bushy-brunette. "Hermione Granger?"

"Yes," replied Hermione. "You look awfully familiar. Do I know you?"  she inquired of the girl who recognized her. 

"You don't remember me, Annabelle Bennett? We went to St. Sophia's together." Hermione looked surprised by this revelation. 

"Anni?" she asked. "I haven't seen you in-," 

"Five years!" Anni finished for her, clearly elated. A silence passed between the group. 

"Er, Anni, this is Ginny, Ron's little sister."

Ginny blushed and looked at the ground, shuffling her feet and mumbling something they guessed was "Hello". 

"So can you come with us, Harry?" Ron asked, eager to leave the vicinity of the unfriendly house at number four. 

"Sure, just let me tell aunt Petunia that I've finished her rose bushes. Can Anni come too?" Harry added expectantly. 

"Sure," answered Hermione instantly as Harry ran into the house.  A moment later he returned and he and Anni hopped over the wall. The group proceeded down the quiet street. 

"How did you all get here?" Harry asked curiously as Anni listened in, walking beside him.  George answered first, turning around and treading the sidewalk backwards, "Hermione enlightened us to the muggle transit system," he said with a smile. Harry was sure he had seen George steal a glance at Anni before turning around again, whispering to Fred beside him. 

Harry wore a startled look on his face as Anni turned to him with a furrowed brow. "What's muggle mean?"

"Erm, I was going to fill you in before my friends showed up," Harry began. 

"Huh?" Anni scrunched her nose in confusion. 

"You remember when you asked me what school I go to?" Harry hesitated. 

"Yeah." Anni's look grew more serious by the second. 

"Well, I go to a wizarding school." Harry had finally said it. He looked down at his shoes as he waited for Anni's reaction. She seemed to burst with laughter as the entire group stopped to look at her. 

"You're joking, right?" She looked around at the curious faces that surrounded her. "Ha! Hey, everyone, Harry is a wizard, he goes to a special wizard school and-,"

Harry cut her off, "Shh! Anni!"

"Its true Anni," Hermione chimed in. "We all go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and…"

Anni then cut her off. "You are a wizard too Hermione?" She doubled over with a second fit of laughter. 

"Yes," Hermione said seriously. Anni  stopped giggling immediately. "I left St. Sophia's when I was nearly eleven, because I was accepted at Hogwarts. I am a witch."

"All of you?" Anni said wide-eyed. 

"No." Fred and Ron said instantly. She gave them a questioning look. George elaborated, "Witches are girls, we are wizards." He gestured to himself and his brothers. 

"Oh, bloody brilliant!" Anni exclaimed. 

Harry gave her a weak smile. The group continued down the street. 

"But you didn't answer my question," Anni said immediately. 

"What?" Harry asked. 

"What's muggle mean?"

"Oh," said Harry instantly, "it means a person who can't do magic. You are a muggle."

"Hey, that's not fair," she replied in a mock hurt tone, "I have a magic all my own." She nudged Harry, grinning widely. 

Harry looked behind him and saw Hermione walking a few feet behind the group, rapidly talking to Ginny in hushed tones. He lagged behind until he was even with the two, leaving Anni to converse with Fred, George and Ron. 

"How do you know Anni?" he interrupted their discussion. Ginny fell silent and looked at her feet. Hermione repeated, "We went to school together," staring at the group ahead of them.  Anni was talking animatedly to Fred and Ron, as well a captivated George. All at once, they let out a roar of laughter. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued. "We were dorm mates. She was always playing pranks on me."

"Yep, that sounds like Anni," Harry thought to himself. 

"One time she even put green hair dye in my shampoo. It took a week to get it all out." Hermione eyed the back of Anni's head accusingly. "Its strange, I never thought I would see her again. She's your cousin?" Hermione took her eyes off of Anni to look at Harry, who nodded. 

"Sort of, I mean she's uncle Vernon's niece…" Harry was cut off by Fred, who yelled back at the three of them, "Green, Hermione? I bet that looked really lovely." He finished with a chuckle and turned back to Anni, just missing the venomous look that Hermione shot at him.

"I think she's pretty," Ginny added in a quiet voice as she caught Harry's eye. He smiled back and Ginny promptly turned a light shade of red, returning her eyes to the ground in front of her. 

"Sorry about that, Hermione," Anni turned around to face her. "It was just for fun. You don't hate me for that do you?" Anni looked imploringly at Hermione. 

"No, Fred and George have done much worse. Just don't give them anymore ideas, okay?"

"Okay," came Anni's reply. A smile returned to Hermione's face and Anni returned to the conversation between Ron, Fred and George. 

"So really, how are you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked, a definite note of seriousness in her voice. 

"Well," he thought about the pain in his scar returning and the dream he'd had. It would feel good to have the reassurance of a friend. He paused. "I had another dream, Peter was in it." He paused a second time to examine Hermione's reaction. "And then my scar hurt."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione's eyes widened with horror. "Did you tell Siruis?"

"Yes and he told Dumbledore." Harry answered. 

"I guess that's not a promising sign," Hermione replied, biting her lip. 

Harry watched Ginny as she trailed off into one of the perfectly manicured lawns that fronted the houses of the neighborhood. She was beckoning a fluffy tailed cat towards her. 

"That's Mr. Tuffty," he called after her as she stooped to the ground stroking the cat as it purred loudly. He had changed the subject intentionally when Hermione's tone became foreboding. The day was too fine to waste on thoughts of Voldemort, he had decided. "This is Mrs. Figg's house. She's the lady that used to look after me when my aunt and uncle were out," he explained. Ginny smiled and stood up. The cat circled around her ankles for a moment before retreating to the house. The red headed girl trotted behind the group in an effort to catch up. 

Once more, Harry turned his attention to the four in front of him. Their behavior had taken an interesting turn. Harry, Ginny and Hermione stopped a few feet behind the three Weasley boys and Anni as the four formed a line facing Harry's direction. He and the other two bore similar puzzled looks as they watched them bend over backwards in crab fashion. Anni yelled, "On your mark, gentlemen, get set… go!"

The four of them scurried off in a backwards crab race, bumping and colliding with each other and giggling hysterically all the while. Harry couldn't help but grin at them as they made a spectacle of themselves. Anni was exactly the same as Fred and George, always looking for an opportunity to pull a prank or draw attention to herself in any absurd way. He was glad that she had the chance to meet them. They would be dangerous allies with one another. 

"Well now, there's a perfect way to get an entire street full of people to stare at you!" Ginny giggled as Fred ran into a fence post and George knocked Anni off of her hands and feet. Ron was the only one to make it to the decided finishing point. 

"I beat you all!" he shouted, red faced, as several passers by stopped to point and stare. 

Smiling , Hermione shook her head at their childish antics, as George yelled, "Hey Harry, your cousin is a pleasure to be in company with," taking her hand and helping her to her feet. Harry watched as he bowed low. 

"Why the pleasure is all mine, good sir," Anni answered with a mocking curtsey. Harry rolled his eyes. 

They all started off again in the direction of downtown Little Whinning. 

"So where are we going?" Harry turned to ask Hermione as Ron came up on his other side. Before she'd had the chance to answer the question, Ron said, "We are taking you out for your birthday," grinning at Harry, "did you get my package?" Harry nodded, "Yep, I'm sure Filch will enjoy them just as much," he said returning a mischievous grin as Hermione scoffed. 

"Try not to lose too many points for Gryffindor this year, you two."

The seven of them seated themselves around a small table on a sidewalk under the awning of an ice-cream parlor. 

"Order anything you like, I'm treating for Harry's birthday," Hermione announced to the crowded table. 

After placing all of their orders the waiter whisked away into the shop, leaving them to their own conversations. Fred, George and Anni were engrossed in what appeared to be a discussion of trade secrets by the way each would burst out laughing in turn and making loud noises like an explosion, catching several curious glances from other tables. 

Hermione and Ginny were busy surveying the ice-cream parlor and the charming shop fronts of the small town, as Ron gave Harry a play-by-play of his last Quidditch practice session with Fred and George. 

"and Harry, it was brilliant!" Ron's eyes lit up as he relived the moment of glory. "I swung around on my broom and… Wham!" He slammed both of his palms flat on the table making the waiter jump as he handed a large waffle cone to Ginny. "Knocked it right out of the scoring area with the tail of my broom."

"Oliver couldn't have done better himself, baby brother," Fred interjected encouragingly as Ron dug into the sundae in front of him. 

Hermione turned from her conversation with Ginny and snapped at Ron for using words such as "Quidditch, flying and brooms". "Someone might overhear you," she argued. 

"No one's listening to us," Ron snapped back. "Go back to your boring conversation with Ginny and stop interrupting ours." 

Ginny quickly looked down at her ice-cream cone with an almost hurt expression. Ron turned his attention to his own ice cream. 

Knowing how arguments between Ron and Hermione could escalate into blazing rows, Harry prayed that a change of subject would end this scene before it had time to progress. Such a distraction came when Anni shrieked, "God, I would love to get my hands on that cat!" She was making a strangling motion with her hands. Harry assumed that she was talking about Mrs. Norris, beloved pet of Mr. Filch. No doubt Fred and George were filling her in on the evils of the duo. There wasn't a student at Hogwarts that did not have the urge to give her an almighty kick when she lurked through the vast halls of the school. Several eyebrows raised as they laughed uncontrollably. "You guys! Shhh!" Hermione hissed across the table, looking around to see if anyone was staring.  

           "Did you get the book I sent you?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence on their side of the table, the chatter on the other end seemed interminable. "I thought it would help, you know, we'll have a lot of studying to do in the fall term."

           Ron interrupted, rolling his eyes, "Hermione, will you shut up for once about the OWL's?"

           "I was talking to Harry. Besides, you could do with a bit of studying, you know? You might…" Ron interrupted again, "Its summer holiday!" He pronounced these words slowly with emphasis on holiday. 

           "Its never too early to start," Hermione retorted. 

           "When are you ever going to lighten up? Its going to be worse this year since you've been named Prefect." Ron was interrupted, this time by Harry. "You were made Prefect, Hermione?" he asked as she nodded and smiled. 

           "What are OWL's?" Anni chimed in as Hermione turned again to converse with Ginny. "They are assessment tests," Harry began to explain as Ron added, "big, awful tests," "that we are due to take this year," Harry continued, disregarding Ron's amendment to his explanation. 

           "Why are they called OWL's?" Anni scrunched up her nose and giggled at the name. 

           "Ordinary Wizarding Levels," Fred replied through a mouthful of whipped cream and fudge. 

           Lighthearted conversation filled the short time that it took for the group to return to the Dursley's. Stopping at the driveway, Harry said goodbye to Ron and Fred and slightly blushed as Hermione pecked him on the cheek. Ginny blushed in turn as Harry said goodbye to her. 

            Anni was lingering a few feet behind with George. Harry distinctly heard the words, "I'll just get your address from Harry." Anni caught his eye and slightly colored. Harry returned his attention to the others as they made their way back up the street. Harry returned to the house with a quietly grinning Anni.

***

"And where have you two been all day?" aunt Petunia's shrill voice greeted Harry and Anni as soon as they had opened the door. 

           "Erm, we…" Harry stammered, but Anni chimed in cheerfully "Harry and I went for a walk. I forgot how pleasant this neighborhood is!" Harry was impressed. Anni knew how to handle any situation. 

           "Well, you had better go upstairs and get cleaned up for dinner." aunt Petunia sounded sufficiently soothed by Anni's praises. They both made their way to the stairs. "And do something about that hair!" aunt Petunia gave Harry a disapproving glare. They continued to climb the stairs.

           Harry opened the door to his room. Anni followed him. Hedwig was still asleep in her opened cage on Harry's desk. Harry went to the mirror hanging on the door of the wardrobe. He tried his best to smooth out his unruly hair to no avail. Anni walked over to the desk and cooed at the sleeping owl. 

           "You are so pretty. You're magical as well, I suppose." She smirked at Harry. He laughed. 

           "Actually, she is." Anni looked only mildly surprised, as if she was almost expecting that answer. "I got her as a birthday present from a friend when I started school at Hogwarts. Owls are very useful pets, you know. They can deliver letters for you."

           "Deliver letters?" Anni sounded skeptical. She continued to stroke Hedwig as the owl gently clicked her beak at the strange visitor. 

           "Yeah, that's how wizards send mail." Harry, who had given up further attempts at taming his hair, went over to the bed and plopped down. Anni, still sitting at the desk, reached over and picked up the book Hermione had given him for his birthday. 

"So this is the book she gave you?" she asked, looking amused. "She certainly hasn't changed a bit," she said, leafing through the book. She examined a picture on one of the pages. The figures on the page were actually moving.

 "Wow, this is amazing, Harry" Anni squealed with delight. Harry looked at the page and saw an apparently bored teacher lecturing a bunch of students who looked even more bored. 

"That's nothing," he said as he reached for _Flying With the Cannons. As he slid the book off of the desk, a small object fell to the floor._

"What's this?" Anni said as she picked up the object. 

"What's what?" Harry glanced over while thumbing through the book for a picture of tiny wizards in orange robes zooming in and out of the frame on tiny brooms. 

"It's a photograph" she said, examining it. Harry snapped the book shut.

"Who are these three people, Harry?" Anni inquired, clearly amused by the antics of the subjects.  Harry walked over to where she was sitting, and looking over her shoulder, he pointed out the persons in the photo. 

"That one with the lighter hair was one of my professors at Hogwarts, and that one" Harry pointed to a mischievous-looking, but handsome young man "he's my godfather, Sirius. And him," Harry pointed to the man with the rumpled black hair and round glasses "he's my father." 

"Your father?" Anni looked intently at the picture. "He was a wizard too?" 

"Yeah, this picture was taken while he was a student at Hogwarts." Harry gazed fondly at the photo. 

"You look just like him, Harry!" Anni hadn't been the first to tell him this, but he enjoyed hearing it again, all the same.

"Was your mother a wizard as well?" she questioned Harry. 

"A witch, yes." Harry smiled. 

"Why isn't Petunia a witch, then?" 

He couldn't help laughing at the question. "I don't know. There are lots of witches and wizards who come from muggle—I mean non-magical families." Harry explained. "Hermione is the only one in her family who is a witch" he added. 

"Are you two ready for dinner?" a slightly annoyed voice reached them from downstairs. 

"We'd better go down before aunt Petunia gets angry" Anni suggested.

"I'd better put this stuff away before she finds out I've smuggled it in here. I'm not allowed to have any, you know, magical stuff up here. It's usually locked up in the cupboard under the stairs." As he explained, Harry made a stack of the books littering the desk and shoved them under the bed. Anni watched as Harry attached Ron's letter to the now wide-awake Hedwig and sent her on her way. 

"Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon would kill me if they knew I had told you about any of this." Harry felt slightly nervous.

"I'm not telling" she assured him as they both joined the rest of the Dursley family downstairs.

The two appeared in the kitchen only moments after Petunia had called for them. Exchanging knowing glances at each other, they took their respective places at the table. Anni was placed between Harry and Dudley. Five years had not been long enough to make Anni forget Dursley family dinner conversation. This usually consisted of Petunia and Vernon criticizing Harry or his dead parents between bites of food occasionally punctuated with over-exuberant praise of Dudley, or Duddykins to be more exact.

Anni braced herself for another such conversation. "How was your day at work, dear?" Petunia asked her husband while heaping potatoes onto Dudley's already full plate. 

"Fine" Vernon grunted, shoving food into his large mouth. 

Looking for another topic to speak on, as the last attempt had gotten her no where, she turned to Harry and began to gripe. "I thought I told you to do something about that hair."

"I did" came Harry's defense. 

His uncle cut in. "Honestly, boy, the way you keep your appearance, you look like a bloody homeless-" Vernon was cut off by a small squeak that came from Dudley. Anni had apparently kicked his pudgy shin underneath the table as he sniggered at Harry's berating. 

"Oh, sorry, Dudley" Anni said in an angelic voice, feigning innocence under her aunt and uncle's reproachful stares. "I didn't mean to kick you." She smiled sweetly as Dudley inched his chair away from her. 

Petunia opened her mouth to say something in defense of her Dudders, but was cut off by Vernon's loud voice. 

"Next time don't come to the table if you can't bother to look half-way presentable" he said, his voice lowering, he was obviously losing steam. The conversation between the two took a turn to a big deal that Vernon had landed that afternoon at work. Harry tuned their voices out and ate in silence, watching every now and then as Anni shot Dudley menacing looks while his mother wasn't watching.

When the meal was finished and the dishes cleared away, Harry and Anni retreated once again to the smallest bedroom at the top of the stairs. 

"So Hermione…" Anni's voice had trailed off, expecting to get a reaction from Harry as he twisted the doorknob and entered the room.

"Hermione what?" He had no idea where that came from or what Anni had meant by it. 

"Is she your girlfriend?" Anni asked in a teasing tone.

"No!" Harry answered quickly. "Why does everyone think she's my girlfriend?" The thought annoyed him. "I actually think that Ron fancies her," he added, hoping to turn the conversation from himself. The opinion he expressed, though, was his honest one. On several occasions, he had witnessed Ron's blatant jealousy toward Victor Krum, Hermione's interest, as far as Harry could tell. One time Ron even went so far as to dismember his miniature model of the world famous Quidditch Seeker. His arm was found next to Harry's bed in their dorm at school. Ron had quickly changed from Krum's number one fan to his hostile enemy in a matter of days. 

"Did you notice the way they would argue back and forth about every little thing?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes as he took a seat at his desk. Anni sat on the bed.

"Ron, he's sweet. Hermione seems a little too bossy for him, though." Harry laughed at this.

"It didn't used to be this bad, Ron's just jealous because Hermione went with someone else to the, er, dance we had at school last Christmas."

"Oh yeah?" Anni asked with interest. Harry nodded. This conversation was taking a decidedly girly turn. He knew if he didn't find another topic of conversation, Anni would be dragging out his secret crushes. He quickly thought of other things to say.

"So…" Harry was cut off by Anni, who seemed eager to learn more about this "er, dance" that had taken place last Christmas.

"And who was the lucky little witch that accompanied Mr. Potter?" Anni said with mock importance.

"Parvati" Harry let out a breath "Parvati Patil." 

This conversation was taking a seriously wrong turn. 

"What kind of name is that?" Anni scrunched up her nose.

"Indian, I think. Want to see how Quidditch is played?" 

"Wait a minute Harry, dear, I am not finished grilling you."

"I don't fancy Parvati" Harry snapped quickly, anticipating the next question Anni would ask.

"Okay, fine." She held up her hands in resignation. "So now, what is Quidditch?" As she asked this, Harry was crawling under the bed. He came back out with a large book, _Flying With the Cannons.  Anni took it and opened to a page with two moving wizards in orange robes and one in yellow and black. _

"That is so neat how all of these pictures move!" Anni exclaimed, still fascinated by them. "Our, what is it…" She put her finger to her mouth and thought a moment. "Muggle, that's it, our muggle photographs just don't seem all that interesting compared to this." She pointed at a picture of an orange robed Seeker who performed a flawless Wronski Feint.

After a play-by-play of every Quidditch game Harry had ever seen or participated in. Anni got up and stretched her legs.

"Oh my" she said, looking at the alarm clock. "We've been talking for nearly three hours." She giggled and made her way over to the door. 

"Hey, Anni" Harry said almost reluctantly.

"Yeah?" She turned around as she opened the door.

"I'm glad your here." Harry looked up from his feet to see his cousin smiling warmly at him. 

"I am too, Harry. Hope you had a nice birthday." And with that, she closed the door and made her way across the hall to the guest bedroom.

Harry lay awake thinking about how his friends had surprised him, how well they got on with Anni, but most of all, he thought about how easy Anni was to talk to, especially when it came to the wizarding world. He was glad that she had taken all of this so well. "But, then again," he thought, "nothing much ever surprised Anni."


	4. Diagon Alley and the Hogwarts Express

Disclaimer: The characters and world of the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own Anni and her parents only at this time. Oh, and I am also the proud owner of some Harry Potter Band-Aids, but I'm only allowed to use them if I'm bleeding.

Author's Note: Harry and Anni meet up with the gang again. Alert the Death Eaters, some one! There's a muggle in Diagon Alley!

Chapter Four

Diagon Alley and the Hogwarts Express

_"come down from your fences…"_

The rest of the summer passed pleasantly but quickly. Anni had made Harry's confinement at number four far more than bearable. The two spent their days mostly in the Dursley's garden avoiding Dudley. Anni chattered away about her school and the practical jokes that she had planned for her return as Harry trimmed and pruned his Aunt's prized plants. 

            "Anni" said Harry, kneeling in front of a large azalea. He looked around to make sure there were no Dursley's around. "You know that last letter I sent to Ron?" 

            "Yeah." She was absent-mindedly picking apart a leaf. 

            "Well, I said that I would try to meet him, Hermione, and the others at Diagon Alley on Friday, but that was before you got here and …we don't have to go if you don't want to." 

            "Diagon Alley?" she said, dropping the mangled remains of the leaf, and gave Harry a quizzical glance. "Where's that? What's that?" She scrunched her nose again in that manner that was uniquely hers.

            "Oh. It's a street in London. Every wizard's shop you can imagine is there." Harry explained with wide eyes and an excited expression. 

            "I've been to London lots of times and I've never heard of such a place. I guess you're going to tell me it's secret and protected by magic?" She wore an expression similar to that which Hermione affected when being particularly condescending to Ron. 

            "Yes. You're such a Know-it-all!" 

            Anni smiled proudly. "Of course I want to go, but are, er, muggles allowed?" 

            "Sure. Hermione's parents got there somehow. I think you just need a wizard there with you." Harry pondered this thought a moment until he was satisfied he had reached a logical conclusion. 

            "Lucky me!" she giggled. "I'll have six!" 

            Harry smiled. He enjoyed her enthusiasm for something that must strike her as very odd and foreign. Indeed, sometimes Harry still felt out of place in the wizarding world. It had been only five years ago that he was informed of the very existence of witches and wizards. Anni seemed very pleased with the prospect of a visit to Diagon Alley. 

            "Great!" he exclaimed. "Now, the only problem is how to convince uncle Vernon to let us go to London."

            "Oh yeah." Anni's smile faded.

***

            That night at dinner the opportunity they had been waiting for finally presented itself.

            "Tomorrow's Friday, Vernon, remember?" Petunia chirped as her husband gave her a confused look. 

            "Remember what?" he scoffed.

            Petunia shot him an exasperated glance. "I've only told you a hundred times in the last week!" She stopped to make sure the curly pernicious girl next to her was not harassing Dudley. Both appeared to be paying no mind to the conversation and eating quietly.

            "You promised to take Dudley into town to pick out a very special present to take with him to school." This time she turned her glance on the pudgy boy, surveying him with weepy eyes. "I'm going to miss my Dudders," she whimpered, patting him on the back as he shoveled large amounts of food into his face.

            "Oh, yes" Vernon said with sudden recollection. "How's that sound to you, Dudley my boy?" 

            The boy lifted his fat face and grinned through a mouthful of food without answering. 

            "London? Can we come too?" Anni's voice rang with a tone of angelic sweetness. Petunia shot her a warning glance, which she ignored, looking pleadingly at her uncle. 

            Harry knew Anni was good at persuasion, but somehow he didn't think it would work this time. 

            "Both of you?" Vernon replied to Harry's amazement. 

            Anni nodded. "Of course Harry will come." Harry kept his eyes averted to his plate but listened intently.

            "Yes, why not?" Vernon muttered after a short silence. Anni squealed with delight as Dudley inched away from her. 

            "Oh, thank you Uncle Vernon!" She grinned widely at her red-faced uncle. 

            "We're all set then, Harry," said an excited Anni as they trudged upstairs after dinner. They had made a habit of confining themselves to Harry's room during evening hours to discuss all aspects of life as a wizard. Anni seemed curious about everything that went on at Hogwarts and Harry was delighted that she had taken such an interest in the wizarding world. He still missed his friends, but having her there made it seem less grim.

            The two were excited about their adventures to come in the wizard's shops in Diagon Alley as well as seeing Hermione, Ron and the others again.

***

            Between two ordinary London storefronts stood the entrance to Diagon Alley. A shabby pub, called the Leaky Cauldron, was nestled between two normal muggle shops. Harry watched as witches and wizards of various kinds slid past the heavy wooden doors of the pub and out of sight.  Vernon, Dudley and Anni didn't seem to notice this at all.

            "Alright then, you two," Vernon pointed an accusing finger at Harry. "Dudley and I are going to look aroung a bit. We'll meet you back here in two hours. And no funny business."

            Harry nodded complyingly as Anni checked her watch.

            They both stood there and watched the retreating forms of their uncle and cousin. 

            "You sure have a way with uncle Vernon" Harry turned to Anni as soon as the others were out of earshot. "I was sure he would make us come with him and Dudley."

            "Yes, I know," answered Anni in a proud sort of way. "He's trying to get in good with my dad. Why not make something of it if I can?" she added, shrugging her shoulders. She looked all around her, apparently not finding what it was that she was looking for. "So, which way is your wizard street?" she asked finally. 

            Harry didn't reply. He had been watching Vernon and Dudley continue down the street and turn into a video game store. As soon as they were out of sight, Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her into the Leaky Cauldron. 

            The air inside the pub was clouded with smoke and filled with the sounds of people talking vibrantly. Anni looked all around her, jaw dropped in amazement. She turned to Harry and whispered "Harry, are these people wizards?" 

            "Some of them" Harry replied, adding, "some of them are witches, hags, gobblins." He pointed at a table full of short, vicious-looking creatures. Anni gave a small gasp and tightened her grip on Harry's hand.

            "Harry! Good to see you again, mate! It's been…" Tom, the bar tender and innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron called, then stopped to recall how long it had actually been since Harry was in his shop last. 

            "Two years" Harry finished for him, coming over to the bar, pulling Anni behind him, who was still staring at the goblins. "Don't stare," he warned her under his breath.

            "How ya doin' Harry?" Tom asked as they approached. 

            "Fine, and you?" Harry asked politely. 

            "Never better, my boy. Aren't you going to introduce me to your lovely friend?" Tom replied with a suggestive wink at Harry and a nod in Anni's direction. 

            "This is Anni, my cousin." He said the last part with emphasis.

            "It's a pleasure, miss" Tom said warmly, taking Anni's hand. "What do you think of my little establishment?" 

            Anni looked around with an appraising eye. "Never seen anything more interesting in my life" she answered enthusiastically. Harry noticed that she was impressed by how these wizards and witches dressed in cloaks and robes. He saw her staring at a wizard in the corner wearing a great pointed hat.

            "Well, see you around, Tom" Harry said with a wave, pulling Anni along after him, who still appeared to be stunned, blatantly staring at the elderly wizard.

            Harry and Anni proceeded through another door and out into a deserted alleyway. They made their way to a brick wall at the back of the alley.

            "Where—," Anni started to say, but stopped as she saw Harry bring a wand out from under his shirt. 

            "Smuggled it!" He answered Anni's questioning look with a grin. She hung back and watched as Harry tapped at the bricks with his wand. They began to move. 

            "It worked!" Harry exclaimed.

            "You weren't sure if it would?" Anni said, trying to sound off handed. Harry smiled. Her attempts to appear unsurprised were amusing. 

            "I only saw Hagrid do it once, you know, when he brought me here before my first year." Anni nodded, remembering Harry's story about when he first found out he was a wizard. He took her hand again as he stowed his wand and led her through the opening in the brick wall.

            Shop windows lined both sides of the cobbled stone street. Anni gawked wide-eyed as they passed Eylope's Owl Emporium, Olivanders Wand Shop and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. 

            Harry was nearly dragging Anni down the street. He was eager to see his friends, whom he'd promised to meet at Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor. Anni was shuffling her feet as her head darted in every direction, not knowing which sights to take in first.

            "This is amazing!" she said, oblivious to the fact that her mouth was hanging wide open. Harry smiled to himself—her reaction was close to what his own had been when he first saw this place five years ago.

            "Harry! Oi, Harry, over here!" Ron was waving at Harry and Anni from a table at the ice-cream parlor. Only Hermione and Ginny were with him. 

            "Anni, it's nice to see you again," Hermione said with a smile. "So, Harry, you figured out how to get Anni through the Leaky Cauldron. I thought about owling you in case you didn't know. I wasn't sure if you were going to bring Anni along." 

            "Oh, yeah" Harry stammered. "Well, I didn't realize there was a trick to it. I just grabbed her hand and pulled her in when uncle Vernon wasn't looking." 

            Hermione smiled and nodded. "Yep, that's the trick!"

            "Hi, Ginny" Anni said, releasing Harry's hand and taking a seat next to the small red-headed girl holding an ice-cream cone. Ginny blushed at being addressed and murmured a quiet hello in return. 

            "How long have you been here?" Harry asked Ron as he took the empty seat between him and Anni. 

            "Not long" Ron said, shrugging his shoulders and looking over the list of supplies he would need for the upcoming year. Harry pulled out his own list as well and read:

Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five

By Miranda Goshawk

Intermediate Potions Theory 

By Wolfgang VonBrewer

Advanced Charms

By Aphena Levator

Dark Arts: A Guide to Self-Protection

By Arabella Figg

                On top of the books that he needed for fifth year, Harry also needed to refill his store of Potions ingredients as well as ink, parchment and quills. His list was surprisingly short compared to those of the past four years.

            "We've got a lot to do" Hermione sighed. 

            "Yeah, and we only have two hours" explained Harry. He added "Uncle Vernon let us come to London with him and Dudley."

            Ron giggled and Hermione elbowed him. Harry continued. "He doesn't know we're here."

            "Don't worry, Harry" Hermione assured him. "I'll make sure you're out of here by then." They all stood up to leave.

            "Where are Fred and George?" Anni asked Ron. Harry thought he saw her blush a little. Ron shrugged. 

            "I think they went down to the joke shop. We're supposed to meet them at Flourish and Blotts later, but knowing them, they could be in there all day." Ron smiled cheerily at Anni, who tried to hide her disappointment behind an equally cheerful grin. 

            "I thought we should all go to Gringott's first" stated Hermione. "And then get our books before doing anything else." 

            But as she ticked the tasks off on her fingers, she realized she was only talking to Ginny. Harry, Ron and Anni had stopped in front of a large window bearing yellow letters that read Quality Quidditch Supply. Harry noticed Hermione march up to the window with her hands on her hips. 

            "Honestly. We'll never get anything done if you two stop to drool over every racing broom you see." She said these words with a frustrated look at Ron and Harry.

            "What kind of broom do you have, Harry?" Anni questioned, staring at the sleek racing broom displayed in the window. 

            "A Firebolt!" Ron and Harry both answered. 

            "Do you play Quidditch too, Ron?"

            "Yeah" Ron answered her question. "But I'm not on the house team, yet. The Keeper position is open this year and Fred and George think I have a good chance at it." Ron sounded so enthusiastic Harry wasn't surprised that Anni's face displayed the same animation at this answer. Or was it the mention of Fred and George that lit up her face, Harry wondered.

            "If you two aren't coming, Ginny and I will just have to go by ourselves," Hermione warned. 

            "Okay, okay. We're coming" Ron relented. The five made there way down the street towards the large and imposing building that bore the name Gringott's.

            As they emerged from the gleaming building into the warm August sunlight, Anni continued to chatter excitedly to anyone who would listen. 

            "I've never seen anything so amazing in my entire life. That was like a roller coaster. I didn't know banks could be that fun. Gee, your money sure is odd." She examined a knut in her palm. "So, where are we going next?" she inquired, hopping up and down excitedly next to Hermione. 

            "To the book store, and we'd better hurry. We've only got one hour and thirty-four minutes left," she said, checking her watch. They crossed the cobbled streets. Some children loitering in front of a candy store were whispering and pointing at something. Harry heard the sound of running feet. As he turned in the direction of the noise, he saw Fred and George running frantically down the street. Everyone else had turned as they approached.

            "Hi, Harry, Anni" George said with a mischievous grin on his face. 

            "Hi, George" Harry said.

            "What are you running from?" Hermione asked curiously.

            "Fred accidentally tripped Marvin while he was carrying a box filled with dung bombs" George explained. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw a red-faced man. He stood in front of Marvin Mirth's Magical Mischief Maker's Market. He was wiping a large quantity of brownish muck from his face. He looked up and Harry noted the look of fury on his face as his eyes settled on Fred and George. 

            "And don't come back" the man shouted. 

            "It's a good thing his dung bombs are rubbish" George stated. 

            "Yeah" added Fred. "If they were as good as the ones at Zonko's, he'd smell like that for at least a week." The man turned and stalked back into the shop. 

            "Let's go before you two cause any more trouble" Hermione quipped impatiently at Fred and George. As they turned in the direction of Flourish and Blott's, Harry noticed that Anni's expression contained avid admiration as she listened to George relate the entire story with animated gestures.

            They all left the bookstore with arms loaded full of books and other packages. Anni was still chattering on about how amazing it was to see a cage full of biting books. 

            "Harry, it's nearly time, have you gotten everything you need?" Hermione asked as she shifted an armful of books to check her watch. 

            "Yeah, I think so" Harry answered, checking his list one last time. He glanced around and found Anni nowhere near. George was also missing from the group.

            "Where did she go?" Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who pointed at a shop across the street with a variety of owls in the window. George and Anni were standing in front of the shop window, deep in conversation. 

            "You write to me first, that way I can just send my reply with your owl" Harry heard Anni say, handing him a piece of paper with writing on it.

            "That's my address at school," she continued as Harry approached her.

            "We have to go soon or uncle Vernon will be angry." He watched as the smile faded from her face. "You'll see everybody at the train station on Monday," he added, hoping that would brighten her mood.

            "Yeah" George added. "We'll all see you off to school and I'll write soon, I promise." This had its intended effect and Anni cheered up almost instantly.

            "Alright then, see you on Monday." She flashed George a smile as she retreated down the street with Harry and into the Leaky Cauldron.

            Back on the noisy London street, Charing Cross Road, Harry and Anni stood waiting for Dudley and Vernon. Not long after they had stepped out of the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, their uncle and cousin appeared loaded down with several large parcels each. 

            "What's all that?" uncle Vernon grunted as he pointed to the books and other packages in Harry's arms. 

            "I picked up a few things for school" Anni answered him coolly. "Harry is just carrying them for me." The two eyed each other with a look that seemed to say, "That was a close one."

***

It had been easy enough getting Vernon and Petunia to take Harry to King's Cross Station to meet the school train on September the first. Anni was also to take a train to her school, St. Sophia's School for Girls, on the same morning.

            At the station, Vernon unloaded Harry's trunk and several smaller pieces of luggage that belonged to Anni. Harry noticed with much dismay that Anni wasn't acting like her normal chattering, pranking self. The entire car ride to London there was no looks of panic or squeals from Dudley that usually erupted when Anni was nearby. She hadn't even shot him so much as one dirty look the entire way. 

            "Anni, we'll write to each other, I promise." Harry had hoped this would cheer her up a bit. She just gave a solemn nod and kept her eyes on her shoes. She was just about to speak for the first time all morning when she stopped. Her mouth was open and she was staring over Harry's shoulder. He turned around to see what had caught her attention.

            Vernon and Petunia were already making their way to the platform where Anni was to depart. She and Harry, meanwhile, made their way over to the object of their distraction. George Weasley, wearing corduroys and a knitted sweater with a large 'G' emblazoned on it (obviously one of his mother's infamous creations), was standing a few feet away from them with a big grin on his face. In his hand he held up a large brass cage. Perched inside was an owl, only slightly smaller than Hedwig, sleeping. 

            "It was the silver one that you were looking at in the window, remember?" George said still grinning.

            "Of course. I remember him. He's beautiful, George." Anni eyed the bird with wonder. 

            "Well, I'm glad you like him, 'cause he's yours." Harry watched with a grin of his own, pleased at the improvement of Anni's mood. 

            "Mine?" She said with shocked elation. There was an awkward moment of silence as Anni stared at the owl asleep in its shiny cage. The silence was broken by a shriek as Anni threw her arms around George's neck. 

            "Oh, thank you George! Now I can keep in touch with all of my new friends from Hogwarts, and Harry." George shot Harry a knowing glance. Harry smiled back then looked over his shoulder at the disapproving glares of his aunt and uncle. 

            "Uh, Anni, I think you'd better board the train before it leaves without you" Harry warned as the trains whistle blew a warning of its own. 

            "Oh, right. Thank you again George. You get the inaugural delivery for being so sweet." She said, pecking him on the cheek. George blushed slightly at Anni's gesture, but he quickly recovered.

            "What are you going to name him?" he asked in what he had hoped sounded like an off-hand sort of way. 

            "Thomas" she replied instantly, turning to Harry, giving him a kiss goodbye on the cheek as well.

            "Good name, it suits him" George replied as Harry nodded his agreement. Anni turned and gave her aunt, uncle and Dudley a wave goodbye and then retreated from view on board the train.

            "What was that all about?" uncle Vernon questioned with some agitation as Harry and George approached to lug the trunk and Hedwig to Platform 9 ¾.

            "I have no idea what you could mean?" Harry answered innocently as he and George carried his things to the wall between Platforms 9 and 10. Anni's train moved slowly out of the station as they watched. George let out a dejected sigh, Harry was almost sure of it. He smiled to himself.

            "See you next summer." Harry waved almost sarcastically at the three retreating forms of his family, well, sort of family. He chuckled quietly to himself. They hadn't even bothered to say goodbye to him. 

            "Well, all set then?" George turned to Harry who smiled and nodded. The two disappeared behind the barrier and onto Platform 9 ¾. 

            The two of them made their way to a compartment near the front of the train where Hermione and Ron were having another argument while Ginny was staring out the window, obviously trying to ignore them. Fred was nowhere in sight. Deciding not to interrupt their fight, George and Harry crept into the compartment and stowed the trunk and the owl's cage with little noise, trying not to attract attention. This caution came from five years experience of witnessing the now famous rows of his two best friends. Harry was always careful not to get dragged into them. Instead, he took a seat next to Ginny while George sat on the other side of him.

            At the appearance of George and Harry, Ginny took her attention from the families seeing off their children on the platform and turned to George. 

            "So, did she like him?" she questioned her older brother as Harry listened curiously between the two.

            "Yep" he said with a smile and a look on his face that was clearly an indication of how smitten he was. Ginny smiled in turn at her brother's expression and giggled. "I knew it. The two of you are perfect for each other."

            "Yep, my baby sister's a smart one" George laughed and sat back for the long train-ride to school. Ginny kept the smile on her face. Apparently the owl was her idea, by the pleased look she gave as she turned to the window once again.

            "But George," Harry had to know one thing that was bothering him about all of this, "that looked like a pretty expensive owl, how did you, I mean, with the joke shop plans and all?" Harry trailed off, having wished he hadn't said anything. He didn't want to appear rude or nosey. George just smiled, his eyes closed and his head resting back on the seat.

            "Actually, Zonko's has bought a load of our creations. We want to start a joke shop of our own, you know, but this is a very lucrative side business." He opened one eyelid to look at Harry and smiled. "She's worth it." He went back to his nap and Harry sat there quietly between him and Ginny and listened to Ron and Hermione as they argued. 

            "Well, we all have to start sometime" Hermione said in a dejected tone as she plopped down into a seat opposite the sleeping George, with a large book Harry recognized as the OWL's preparation manual in her lap. Ron took a seat on the opposite side of the compartment and stared at his shoes with a scowl on his face.

            They all passed several minutes in quiet before they were interrupted when a green-haired Angelina stormed through the cabin door.

            "Where is he? I swear I'll kill him," she screamed, startling George out of his sleep. The other four stared at her with identical looks of surprise on their faces. George was the first to speak. 

            "Who are you looking for, Angelina?" 

            "Your wretched brother. Where is he?" she fumed.

            "Ron is right here. You look good in green" George answered with amazing composure. 

            "Not that brother. Where is Fred?" Angelina screamed. She was getting a little scary, Harry thought to himself. 

            "Oh, him. I don't know. Haven't seen him," George said casually, closing his eyes and leaning back to resume his nap. Angelina stomped her foot, frustrated by George's answer and stormed from the compartment. 

            "Looks like Fred's been taking prank pointers from our lovely little Anni" Hermione said as soon as Angelina had left. She shot a sarcastic glare at George. He in turn pretended not to hear this and kept his eyes shut.

            Only moments later the compartment door swung open with a thud to reveal a very winded Fred. "Did she come by this way?" he panted as he tried to stifle the huge grin playing at his face.

            "Just missed her" George replied passively, eyes still closed. 

            "Good" Fred returned, shutting the door and taking one of the several empty seats between Ron and Hermione. Ron turned and eyed his brother suspiciously. 

            "So what did you do to Angelina?" he questioned. 

            "Nothing" Fred countered, putting up his hands defensively. "She did it to herself." He smiled mischievously. The looks on the rest of the faces in the cabin suggested that no one believed this story one bit. 

            "I'm not lying" Fred protested, but the disbelieving looks continued. "I put one of my newest creations-"

            "Our newest creations" George corrected him.

            "Our newest creations" Fred consented "on the seat in their cabin. I didn't know it was theirs, none of them were in there at the time and I saw Neville coming out of it earlier." Here, Hermione cut him off. 

            "Honestly" she began, "you need to find someone new to pick on." Fred held up a hand to silence her and continued. 

            "I was just testing it. I thought Neville would look handsome in green" he used his most innocent voice. "And really, she should know better than to pick up suspicious pieces of candy with George and me around."

            "Don't bring me into this" George said in a warning tone. "You are going to wish you hadn't done that when she catches up to you."

            "It'll fade out before we even reach the school" Fred replied unconcerned.

            "Yeah, but she's not likely to forget that any time soon, Fred. You had better watch your back" George continued. Fred said nothing in reply. He just leaned back in his seat with a satisfied look on his face. Harry shook his head. He couldn't even imagine what Angelina might do to Fred when she finally got her hands on him. He let out a slight chuckle at the thought.

            As the train came to a halt outside of the station in Hogsmeade, Fred poked his head out of the compartment door, apparently looking for any signs of the irate Angelina. He leaned back and said in a comical tone "the coast is clear, I'm going to make a run for it" and with a grin, he disappeared down the corridor.

            "Alrigh' no shovin'. Firs' years this way. Firs' years over here" a familiar voice called out over the crowd of students issuing from the train. "Harry, how ya been, mate? 'Lo Hermione, Ron." Hagrid clapped Ron on the back, knocking him off balance and into Hermione. Harry found it quite amusing when Ron's face turned an obvious shade of red as he muttered an apology to her. 

            "I'm fine, Hagrid, how've you been?" He smiled up at his giant friend.

            "Oh, can't complain. Can't wait ter show yeh what I got fer Care of Magical Creatures class this year. It's amazin'." Harry shared the startled looks of Ron's and Hermione's that seemed to say, "Oh no, what sort of horrid, dangerous beast has he created this time?"

            "Can't wait," he said with mock excitement. 

            "See yer up at the school" Hagrid replied with a wave as he corralled the first years onto the docks for the trip across the lake. The three waved back ominously. 

            "I hate to think what it might be this time" Ron said in a forbidding voice.

            "Oh, honestly Ron," Hermione snapped back, stepping into the Great Hall for the first feast of the school year. Hermione continued the argument that she and Ron had started on the platform. "You don't know that. He could have some really nice animals for us to study this year." 

            "Yeah, nice and dangerous." Ron took his seat next to Harry and Hermione sat on his other side.

            "You are supposed to be his friend, Ron," she said finally and, to Harry's relief, this ended the conversation.

            Through the duration of the sorting ceremony, Harry watched the silent dialogue between Angelina and Fred. It was rather amusing to see her glare at him while mouthing the words "you are going down." Fred answered almost instantly with a pleading look "it was meant for Neville, not you." But Angelina would have none of it. 

            "I am going to get you good. Just you wait!" As Angelina finished, Professor Dumbledore, with his usual purple robes and half-moon spectacles, called for everyone's attention.

            "May I make a few announcements before we begin the feast?" He paused as the chatter died down. He looked more solemn that usual, probably the added strain of Voldemort's return, Harry thought absently. "First of all, some housekeeping rules," Dumbledore said, looking as grave as a statue. "The Forbidden Forest is, as always, forbidden for any and all students." His eyes fell on Fred and George as he said these words. "A revised list of contraband items has been issued listing several new items. You can view this list in its entirety in Mr. Filch's office if you would like" Dumbledore continued dryly. "As of this year, security around the school has been tightened considerably. Hogsmeade visits will not be permitted this year. I will strongly stress the importance of students remaining in their dorms at night, no one is allowed to wander the halls or grounds after curfew. Punishment for breaking these rules will be severe, I remind you. Your safety and education are our number one priority." At this point, his tone changed into a softer, friendlier sound. This was the Dumbledore that everyone knew. That first act, Harry thought to himself, was a little disconcerting.

            "This brings me to a point of introduction. I have invited several members of the Ministry of Magical Law Enforcement to act as an extra measure of security around the school and grounds. May I introduce Chief of our security team, Mr. Amos Diggory." 

            No one clapped for the newcomer, they all knew who he was—Cedric's father. Harry stared blankly at his empty plate and all of the memories that he had happily forgotten over the latter part of the summer flooded back in an instant.

            Cedric's father stood up from the table at the end of the hall at which was seated all of the professors. Harry looked down the row at the familiar faces, but when his eyes came to Professor Snape's place next to Professor McGonagall, it was empty. Harry nudged Ron with his elbow and nodded in the direction of the teachers' table. Ron saw immediately what Harry was pointing out.

 "Where is he?" Ron mouthed. Harry just shrugged. Hermione leaned over.

"What's going on, you two?" she inquired. They both pointed at Snape's empty seat. Hermione looked questioningly at them but said nothing. 

"Also, we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to welcome" Dumbledore continued. He motioned a witch seated next to Professor Vector. "May I introduce Professor Arabella Figg." The students applauded courteously, all that is except Harry, who stood gaping at Moody's replacement. 

"Are you all right, Harry? What is it?" Hermione asked with a look of concern.

"It's nothing," Harry stammered. Professor Figg, however, caught his startled look and returned it with a kind smile.

"Well, that's it for introductions and now on to some news that I hope all of you will enjoy" Dumbledore said as he cleared his throat. "The interhouse competition for the Quidditch Cup will resume as normal. Voldemort may have returned, but that does not mean we should not carry on as we always have. Besides, in these times I believe a diversion would do us all some good." The old wizard smiled as his eyes settled on the Hufflepuff table. After a pause, he continued. "Also since many of you will be staying at school over this Christmas Holiday, we have arranged a tournament of Wizard Chess. There will be eleven competitions with a final showdown of the two champions left standing on Christmas, before the usual feast." His eyes twinkled as he said this last part. "There will be one member of each house selected to compete against the other houses. The houses will play each other and the two victors will play each other on Christmas. The players from each house will be selected later this month. Now, as I am sure there is no more business to be discussed, let us enjoy the feast." And as the Headmaster took his seat, the tables filled with food and the room burst into excited chatter. 

"I am going to enter that tournament," Ron stated excitedly as he shoveled piles of potatoes onto his plate. 

"Of course you are, little brother. You're the best chess player in this school. We're sure you'll win!" interjected Fred amid glares and threatening gestures from a scowling Angelina.


	5. The Cat Lady and Quidditch Trials

Disclaimer: I'm still not fortunate enough to own Charlie Weasley, but I've still got my puppet and Band-Aids. And life makes sense once again! Madame Rowling is the fortunate one that owns the characters and places of the Harry Potter series. 

Author's Note: Yes, I know that its been done many times before. I just had to cast A. Figg as the new Defense teacher because I think she is the obvious choice (and she's pretty damn cool). Let's see who gets the Keeper spot, shall we?

Chapter Five

The Cat Lady and Quidditch Trails

"Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime…" 

            As Harry made his way downstairs and into the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, he was hit with the realization that he was relieved to be back at school. He was relieved to be surrounded by his friends and even more relieved to discover that the school had returned back to normal after the events that had turned the place and its inhabitants, upside- down the previous term. Even with all of the added security and the somber mood of students and staff it was reassuring to return to the comfort of routine. 

            Entering the Great Hall, he saw that only a handful of people were there, apparently eager to start the first day of the term. Hermione was, of course, among the small number of students occupying the four large house tables. She was looking over her class schedule as she absently shoved a piece of toast into her mouth.

            "Did you sleep well?" she asked, setting down the half eaten crust, not looking up from the paper she held in front of her nose. 

            Harry took the seat next to her. 

            "Huh?" He wondered where the perfunctory "Good Morning" had gone. He scanned the High Table at the front of the hall. Only Professors McGonagall and Sprout occupied the otherwise empty space, heads bent together over, what Harry could only guess were, class schedules. 

            "I asked if you slept well," repeated Hermione, laying aside her schedule to stare at Harry as he poked at his eggs with his fork. She followed his distracted gaze to the teachers at the High Table. "Who are you looking for?" she asked with mild interest. 

            "Oh," Harry vaguely heard someone questioning him and started slightly, "new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," he answered, recovering enough to realize that it was Hermione speaking. 

            "She's left already, you've missed her," Hermione informed him and then added a, "Why?" suspiciously. 

            "Oh, no reason, really," Harry tried to sound ineffectual, "She just reminds me of someone is all."

            "Oh really?" Hermione began, "Who do you suppose she reminds you of, then?" Harry could tell from her tone that she thought he was being ridiculous and suspicious. He felt slightly foolish on top of it all. It wasn't possible that the new Professor was his former babysitter. For one, she looked way too young. On the other hand, he couldn't shake the feeling that she was very familiar to him.  

            "Well," he began weakly, "d'you remember the house that we passed in my neighborhood? The one with all of the cats out front?"

            "Sure I do, Ginny talked about them all summer. Her cat obsession is bordering on insanity in my opinion." She raised her eyebrows for effect. 

            Harry smiled at how off topic she was dragging them. 

            "Don't try to figure her out. Ginny is different to say the least. She'll have you tying yourself in knots before you nail her down to one thing or another." 

            "Don't I know it," Hermione added with meaning. They both laughed at the eccentricities of their younger friend before returning to the original topic. 

            "So what of it?" Hermione asked, spearing a sausage on her fork and examining it thoroughly. 

            "I think Professor Figg might be the same Mrs. Figg that used to watch after me when the Dursleys were out." Harry confessed under Hermione's interested stare. 

She looked at him in an appraising sort of manner for a few minutes, completely forgetting her food. Then she ventured, "Its possible, I guess."

            Deflated by her skepticism, he admitted, "Well, she does seem a lot younger than the Mrs. Figg who used to watch me." He turned back to his plate and left it at that. He would just have to wait until he had Defense Against the Dark Arts to find out for sure. 

            Hermione handed him his schedule, "Well, we'll see if she's the Cat Lady after double Care of Magical Creatures." She carried a note of finality on the subject in her tone as she returned to her own schedule. What was she concentrating so hard on, Harry wondered, watching her burry her nose in the parchment. Surely she wasn't trying to memorize it. Harry wouldn't put it past her, however. 

            The two of them met up with Ron shortly after breakfast (who, typically, overslept and blamed it all on Harry) and headed out across the damp grounds surrounding the castle. They headed in the general direction of Hagrid's cabin and the paddock beyond where his class traditionally met. 

            As they approached the paddock they were greeted with a most unusually surprising sight: Fawkes. The docile but dazzling bird was perched on an enormous log-like arm of the, likewise, enormous Hagrid. The 'Creatures teacher was beaming a radiant smile that suggested he was impatient to get today's lesson underway. As the vibrant subject sang silently, Hagrid surveyed the class that was assembling in irregular clumps around him. He took an unofficial roll call of sorts by mentally noting absent faces. Hagrid had gotten to know each of his students well, and would know immediately if anyone was skiving. Pleased, apparently, to have everyone present and accounted for, Hagrid launched into a zealous lecture of the Phoenix and its many fascinating properties. 

            "Fawkes here's a Phoenix," Hagrid began all excitement apparent on his features. "A very rare bird with the ability to regenerate itself. It bursts into flames just as its body begins to weaken with age and rises from the ashes again as a chick, starting its life all over again." He looked at the swan sized, humming creature with a child-like awe that was almost comical. 

            "You'd think it was Norbert the way he's looking at it," was Ron's whispered commentary. 

            Hagrid continued in the same vein, "Its usually found in countries like Egypt, India and China. It nests on high mountain peaks, lives mostly in isolation." He grinned appreciatively as a group of girls including Parvati and Lavender ooed for effect. "I've seen them around, you know," Parvati added proudly, "my family is from Calcutta. They're native to that part."

            Hagrid nodded politely at the well- intended interruption. Harry, Ron and Hermione were exceedingly pleased to see how well the class had taken to Hagrid's newest subject. Harry suspected that captive audiences hadn't come Hagrid's way too often. Then again, he thought, anything was better than Blast-Ended Skrewts and Flobberworms. 

            As the class ended and they had finished congratulating Hagrid on an interesting and informative lesson, Hermione turned to Harry and smiled, "Okay, Harry. Now we can see if Professor Figg and Cat Lady are one and the same," in her best impersonation of a detective from a cheesy, black and white, 'who done it' film. 

            Harry wasn't deterred in the least by her mockery. Even if it wasn't the Cat Lady, she still had that familiar feeling about her.  

            The Gryffindors took their seats in a classroom that was, otherwise, empty. Professor Figg was nowhere to be seen, as was pointed out promptly by Ron. Only a large ginger cat with a distinctive, bottlebrush tail sat aristocratically on the instructor's desk, glaring at the incoming students.  

            "Crookshanks!" exclaimed a genuinely bewildered Hermione. "How on earth did you get down here?" She made a quick trek to the front of the room to scoop up her cat, rudely perching on a new and unpredictable teacher's desk. 

            "You must be Miss Granger, then?" A superior, but no less genial voice sounded from the entrance at the back of the classroom. It was a voice Harry knew well. The accent was unmistakable. 

            Harry and Ron turned in their seats along with the other students as Professor Figg approached Hermione slowly with a knowing but kind half-smirk. 

            "Professor Figg, I'm very sorry about him. He always takes to wondering in the oddest places," Hermione began but was silenced with a careless wave from the teacher. 

            "Crookshanks has told me about you, Miss Granger. A Prefect?" she lifted her eyebrows to convey a sort of surprise, but like everyone else knew, Hermione becoming a Prefect was no surprise at all. She was still, predictably, at the top of her year. 

            Hermione seemed to find her voice, prompted by the oddity of the woman's comment, "Sorry, you were talking to my cat?" She looked at Crookshanks questioningly and then to Harry and Ron as if asking them both to back her up on this irrationality. Ron visibly shrugged his shoulders as if to answer, 'Sorry, Hermione. You're on your own with the weirdo.' Weirdo. That was definitely it. She was a weirdo, talking to cats, keeping photos of them at their own Birthday parties. No question about it, Harry thought, this is the very same Figg. She had the accent and the kind, but indifferent look. The only difference was her age. She had to be at least fifteen years younger than his former babysitter, the Cat Lady. Was that possible?

            "You're cat was one of my brood, dear. He is part Kneazle. I raise this sort of breed for the 'Magical Menagerie" Professor Figg's smile widened, showing the fine lines around her eyes as she stroked the cat fondly resting in Hermione's arms. 

            Hermione, uncharacteristically, nodded her head adding no insight or offering any questions on the peculiar topic. She merely took her seat next to Ron, plopping Crookshanks absently on his opened textbook. 

            Ron elicited a noise of protest to which Hermione paid no mind. 

            Professor Figg promptly called for attention and began reading her role sheet, stopping every once in a while at a familiar last name and inquiring after old schoolmates of some relation. When she came to Harry's name, his suspicions were confirmed as she gave him a fond, all encompassing smile as if she was seeing a dear relative after a period of absence. She ventured a small wink and then proceeded with and inquiry of Dean Thomas about his father's health.

            All were present and no one was skiving the most important, without a doubt, of all subjects. Professor Figg glided flawlessly into a review of last term's main points: largely the Unforgivable Curses. It proved to be a highly informative and interesting class in which Hermione recovered her groove and, with a great deal of hand raising, added helpful supplements to the Professors first hand experience with the curses as an Auror/Medic.

***

In Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Ron spent that evening in two squashy chairs by the fire playing chess. Ron was giving Harry a severe beating, as usual and Harry was taking it with as much grace and sportsmanship as possible. Hermione sat apart from the two with Arithmancy work spread across her lap. Crookshanks lay asleep in front of the slowly dying flames that provided the main source of light for the common room. 

            The relative peace that hung over this scene was broken abruptly as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open admitting two students in a charged conversation. 

            "Well, McGonagall informed me this afternoon that trials will be held on Friday, in order to get a head start on practice." Angelina's voice trailed into the serenity of the common room with an authoritative ring. Fred followed her in, all the while adding, "We'll have to start announcing the trials tomorrow then if we expect any sort of turn out." Angelina nodded her agreement as they headed to the corner of the room to their usual table. They were amusingly oblivious to any and all other inhabitants in the room, so engrossed in their conversation as they were. 

            The position of Keeper was the only place that wanted filling on the House Team this year. Oliver Wood had filled the position marvelously until he left school at the end of Harry's third year. He had also been the Captain of the team as well, a position that was now passed on to Angelina. 

            "Trials are on Friday, Harry," Ron whispered only loud enough for him to hear. 

            "Are you ready then?" Harry asked with concern seeing the nervous look on his friend's face. 

            "I reckon I am," Ron replied with a shrug, "I've been practicing all summer." As an afterthought he asked, "D'you know who else is going out for the team?" Before Harry could answer him, Ron added, "Checkmate." 

            Harry leaned back with a defeated sigh. In all of his five years of friendship with Ron, he never managed to beat him at chess. Harry would find it hard to believe if anyone said they had checkmated Ron. 

            "I heard Dean and Seamus say that they were going out for the team," Harry replied to Ron's earlier question. 

            Ron nodded as if he had expected this much, "Know of anyone else?"

            Harry shook his head, "no idea."

            Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the dungeon and noted with great confusion, tiny Professor Flitwick behind the desk that was usually occupied by their least favorite of all professors at Hogwarts: Professor Snape. 

            "He's still gone?" Hermione whispered conspiratorially to Harry and Ron with emphasis on the word "still". 

            "I wonder where he's at," Ron added with less drama, "he hasn't been here all week." They took their usual seats at the back of the room. 

            "Well, maybe he doesn't plan to be back for the rest of term," Harry added hopefully. 

Ron snorted his disagreement and Hermione quelled them both with one look. 

            "This is certainly a pleasant way to start the weekend," Ron continued, "Snape- free." They opened their textbooks as Professor Flitwick began a lecture on Transformation Potions. 

            "Like most, the Polyjuice Potion requires an article of the person you wish to become, such as hair or fingernails." Half of the class groaned at the thought of drinking a potion containing fingernails. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged knowing glances but sat quietly the rest of the lecture. Potions was their last class of the day. 

            Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way back up to the Gryffindor Common Room after Flitwick's long Polyjuice speech. 

            "Fresh Pineapple," Ron told the Fat Lady. The portrait swung forward and the three went in. The common room was crowded with people. Harry, Ron and Hermione shoved their way through the crowd. Harry could see Angelina pacing on one of the large tables where they usually did homework or played Exploding Snap. 

            George was sitting in one of the chairs around the table with his legs thrown carelessly over an arm. Fred was perched on the edge of the table, facing the crowd. 

            Every time Angelina absentmindedly ventured close to Fred, he reached out a hand behind him and tried to trip her. Only once had Harry actually seen him succeed in his mission. Angelina stumbled over the outstretched hand, but quickly recovered her footing. Fred laughed, but ceased when Angelina whacked him mercilessly on the back of the head with a large textbook that happened to be lying on the table. 

            "Ow, Angelina," Fred whined.

            "You've already got something bad coming your way because of that green hair episode, don't make it worse," Angelina spat back as she resumed her pacing. 

            "I already told you, Angelina. It wasn't meant for you." As Fred pleaded his case the portrait hole opened and Katie and Alicia, followed by a few first and second years, appeared. 

            "Is this everyone?" inquired Angelina. 

            "Yep," came Katie's reply. 

            "Okay, I'm sure you're all anxious to know why we've gathered everyone together," Angelina paused for effect. "This year, as you've all heard, Quidditch will resume as normal."

            An excited chatter filled the room.

            "Oliver Wood, Captain and Keeper for Gryffindor, left two years ago, leaving his position open. This morning, Professor McGonagall appointed me as your team's new Captain."

            Everyone clapped in congratulations. Harry had pretty much expected this. No one deserved this more than Angelina. He only hoped that she would not get as obsessive as Oliver had become in the end. 

            "As you all know, we still have the position of Keeper to be filled. We will be holding tryouts tomorrow, even though the season doesn't start until October. This will give us enough time to train the new member of the team. If you are interested please add your name to this list before tomorrow morning. Tryouts will be held on the Quidditch pitch after breakfast." 

            Angelina nudged Fred with her foot and he jumped off of the table. She placed a piece of parchment and a quill in the place that he had vacated. 

            Fred took a seat next to George, as Angelina took a seat in front of the parchment, as people began to line up and add their names. 

            Hermione broke away from the crowd and climbed the stairs to her dorm to put her books away. 

            Harry took a seat at the table next to Katie. 

            Ron had joined the line assembling in front of Angelina. 

            "So, how do you hold tryouts for Keeper?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too naïve. 

            "We call the people going out for the Keeper position up one at a time and…" Katie began. 

            "and we give them everything we've got," Alicia finished a little too energetically.            "Last one still alive gets the spot," Katie added with an angelic smile. 

            "I feel sorry for anyone going up against you three. You're brutal!" George said with conviction. 

            "Actually, its not _that easy," Angelina interrupted, "The rest of the team will be watching. Then we vote on who we think will be best suited to the Keeper position."_

            "Oh," came Harry's noncommittal reply. He wanted Ron to be Keeper for Gryffindor because his best friend wanted this more than anything. He was sure that, with all of the help Fred and George had given him over the summer, Ron was sure to have the position. 

            Harry glanced up at the line just in time to see Ron adding his name to the list of hopefuls. 

            "Aw, ickle Ronnikins!" George teased. 

            "Hey Angelina, go easy on him okay? My mum will kill me if she finds out I let you slaughter my kid brother," Fred laughed patronizingly. 

            "We go easy on no one," Katie retorted. 

            "Besides," Angelina said, placating Ron ever so subtly, "I'm sure he can handle his own." She smiled and gave Ron a wink before he moved away from the line and over to Harry. 

            As the line died down, Hermione reappeared. "Are you two ready to go to dinner?"

            "Yeah let's go, I'm hungry," Ron answered as Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry as if to convey the message, "when is he not hungry?"

            In the Great Hall, the tables of the other three houses were already full. The Gryffindor table was only three-quarters or so full, however. 

            Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats. 

            Dean and Seamus soon followed and sat next to Harry and Ron. 

            "I saw your name on the list, Ron. Are you going to give me some competition, then?" Dean jokingly asked Ron. 

            "Of course," shrugged Ron in reply. 

            Harry, who had been listening to this exchange was interrupted by Hermione. She leaned across the table and spoke to him in hushed tones. "He isn't here _again." Harry followed her stare up to the High Table at the front of the hall. Professor Snape's seat was still vacant. _

            "What do you suppose he's gotten up to?" Harry asked more encouragingly than curiously. 

                "Well, I've been thinking," she started and Harry wished immediately that he hadn't encouraged her. "He was a spy for Dumbledore before all of this," she made a sweeping gesture with her fork and continued, "so, maybe he's become one again." She looked up at Snape's empty seat at the table and shoved a forkful of potatoes into her mouth thoughtfully. 

            "I don't think so," Harry began skeptically, "I think Voldemort knows about him, being a traitor and all. I mean, Voldemort seemed to know why all of his absent Death Eaters were," he paused to choose his words carefully and failed, "well, absent." He shrugged finding his argument sufficient enough to counter Hermione's. 

            Hermione sat with a silent, brooding look on her face as if her slice of ham would present the logical explanation if she just stared at it long enough. 

            "I don't know maybe…" She trailed off, still staring at her plate. 

            At that moment Ron broke in, apparently he had been paying much more attention to their conversation than he had let on. "He'd have to have a damn good disguise if he wanted to get by that horrible lot unnoticed," he was interrupted only briefly by Hermione who reminded him to watch his language. "Well, anyone who had eyes would recognize that bloody great nose in an instant." Hermione seemed to either silently agree with him or simply did not hear him. She remained deep in thought.

            When dinner was over Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean and Seamus returned to the common room. Angelina was still sitting at the table with a book open on her lap. Every now and then, someone would add a name to the long list. Fred and George sat in the corner deep in conversation and furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment. Alicia was asleep in a chair opposite Fred and George. Other than that the common room was empty. 

            "Well, you two, I'm going to sleep," Hermione announced, "You should too, Ron. Tomorrow's a big day." She knelt down and scooped up a purring Crookshanks and the two of them disappeared up the staircase. 

            "Yes, mum!" Ron called incredulously behind her. 

            "I guess I'm going to sleep too," said Harry. He made his way up the staircase and to their dormitory followed by Ron. 

            Harry leaned his head back on his pillow. He couldn't get that conversation he'd had at dinner with Hermione out of his mind. He desperately tried to remember Voldemort's exact words that night he had been returned to his body and, consequently, his power. It was a hopeless exercise. 

He could remember perfectly how terrified he had been, the expression Wormtail wore when he was compelled to cut off his own hand, the sound of his mother's reassurance. Perhaps the thing he remembered most vividly was the hollow, glassy look in Cedric's gray eyes that seemed to confirm that he was gone and it was Harry's fault. He could remember all of these things, but for some reason he couldn't recall what Voldemort had said specifically to his followers. He could have just misunderstood. Maybe Voldemort didn't know that Snape was a traitor and that he was there now, among his brood of minions.  

            He tried to forget about all of it and go to sleep. But sleep was hard to find when his mind was reeling with a thousand other concerns. When he closed his eyes he saw a haunting scene: A circle of Death Eaters and the spaces of those who were missing from among their ranks. 

            Then a thought occurred to him. He remembered being in Dumbledore's office and looking into his Pensieve, where he witnessed a memory of Igor Karkaroff's trial. Karkaroff had named Snape as a Death Eater, among others, in an attempt to save himself. 

            Barty Crouch, Sr. was the judge presiding, and stated that Snape had already been cleared by Dumbledore. He knew all of the circumstances surrounding Snape's betrayal of Voldemort . So, others must also be aware of Snape's true loyalties by now, including other Death Eaters as well as Voldemort himself. 

            Somewhere along these lines of reasoning Harry fell into a deep sleep that washed all of the theories he had been trying to place, into a sea of unconsciousness. 

            "Harry, get up. You're going to be late," a familiar voice defused with excitement had woken Harry up. Ron had pulled open the curtains around Harry's bed, letting bright light enter. 

            "Ron, its Saturday!" Harry exclaimed, throwing a pillow over his head. 

            "I know," Ron persisted, "but today is the Keeper tryouts, remember?"

            Harry rolled over and reached for his glasses. 

            "Hurry up. Dean, Seamus and I will wait for you in the Great Hall," Ron's voice trailed off as he left the room, shutting the door behind him. 

            Harry entered the Great Hall and saw his friends at a distance animatedly discussing the impending tryouts. Hermione was listening with patience as she ate a piece of toast. 

            "Good Morning, Harry," Hermione smiled as he approached the group. 

            "So, are you ready to be impressed?" Seamus boasted as Harry took a seat across from him. 

            "If your as good at Quidditch as you are at turning Pumpkin juice into rum, then I have nothing at all to worry about," laughed Dean as he ducked a halfhearted punch from his friend. 

            Neville came into the hall and took the empty seat next to Hermione. 

            "Hey, Neville, are you going to watch the tryouts?" Ron asked. 

            "Yeah," Neville replied, all excitement. 

            "Good," Harry added, "It should be loads of fun." He smiled at the three competitors. 

            After breakfast, the group of six walked out of the castle and toward the Quidditch pitch. People had been gathering steadily for the last quarter of an hour. Harry, Hermione and Neville wished their friends the best of luck and made their way over to the stands where Harry left Hermione and Neville to join the team on the pitch. The team was waiting on the sideline with Professor McGonagall. She took a seat at the bottom of the stands book-ended on either side by Fred and George. Harry joined them in the stands as the three Chasers came over to give last minute instructions to the judges. 

            "Alright, Lee will announce the name and you, George and Harry will rate their skill from one to ten, ten being the highest," Angelina eyed Fred suspiciously and then turned to her fellow Chasers, Katie and Alicia. They were all in their practice robes and hoisted brooms over their shoulders. 

            "But what about you three," George questioned, "Aren't you going to be rating them as well? How can you do that when you're flying around on brooms, tossing your little Quaffle around?"

            Katie glared at him, visibly unhappy with his lack of respect for the position of Chaser. "Trust me, we'll remember everyone's performance," she reassured him. 

            Angelina handed the three boys parchment and quills as Lee approached and sat beside George. 

            In a magically amplified voice, Lee announced the first contender, "Mark Chesterfield, sixth year." 

            A tall, brown haired boy walked over to Angelina, Katie and Alicia and shook their hands. They all took their positions. The boy did not last long. He had obviously tried his hardest, but the three Gryffindor Chasers were tough competition for even the most skilled and experienced Keeper. 

            Harry watched as a succession of his fellow housemates tried to outwit the three, fast moving girls, but none as of yet stood out as someone capable of replacing Oliver Wood. 

            "Seamus Finnigan, fifth year," Harry heard Lee call the name and the blond haired boy approached Angelina tentatively. They shook hands and took their respective places. Most Gryffindors were clapping along with a few members of other houses who had come to watch. A few Slytherins had shown up to boo and shake the confidence of the Gryffindors who were trying out for Keeper. As the contingent of Slytherins made more of a racket than ever at the announcement of Seamus, Harry glanced up at the group and notice, without surprise, Draco Malfoy and his goons in the thick of it. He hoped that his friend could ignore them long enough to concentrate on the trials. 

            Angelina passed the Quaffle to Katie who raced to the scoring area, toward the left hoop, which was blocked by Seamus. Then Katie threw the Quaffle to Alicia who had just arrived in front of the right hoop. She easily put the Quaffle through the hoop and scored. 

            The three Chasers moved away from the scoring area as Seamus took his place again. Angelina only met a slight challenge before putting the ball through the right hoop again.

            Harry could tell that Seamus' confidence was waning. As he once again took his position in front of the three goal hoops, the three Chasers immediately rushed him. Katie and Angelina had passed the Quaffle back and forth to each other as they entered the scoring area. 

            "That's illegal! They're Stooging!" an adamant Seamus fan yelled from the stands high above Harry's head. He laughed at the display. Its only a trial, he thought, some one up there is taking this a little too seriously. 

            Seamus, however, did not take the bait. He stood his ground. Angelina aimed the ball just above his head and shot for the middle hoop. Seamus rushed upward and successfully blocked Angelina's attempt at scoring. However, the blow from the Quaffle had knocked Seamus off balance. He wavered for a few seconds before losing the battle to gravity. 

            He hit the ground hard at the base of the goal hoops. The three Chasers landed immediately as Professor McGonagall ran toward Seamus, who, now standing, was cradling his right arm. 

            "Wow! I give Seamus an eight for that stunning display of bravery, very Oliver-like," Fred announced. 

            Harry watched as McGonagall helped Seamus exit the field. He'd heard her tell Angelina to proceed without her; but she warned her to exercise more caution. 

            "Ron Weasley, fifth year," Lee announced. 

            Harry looked up at the cheering crowds. He saw Hermione beaming and Neville, next to her, applauding wildly. He saw Draco sneer as Crabbe and Goyle whispered to each other. Harry hoped that they were not planning any special humiliation for his best friend. He was worried enough for Ron as he faced three of the most brutal Chasers in the school, without throwing Draco and his lackeys into the mix. 

            Ron took his place in front of the goal posts. Angelina held the Quaffle, eyeing Ron appraisingly. She tossed the Quaffle to Alicia, who crossed the field to the far left hoop. Ron, however, had beaten her there and successfully blocked her shot. 

            They took their respective positions again. Alicia threw the ball to Katie who flew upward, until she was level with the middle hoop, but instead passed it to Angelina. As Katie backed swiftly out of the scoring area, Angelina darted to the far right hoop and threw the Quaffle with all of her force. 

            Ron, flying as fast as he could, had reached the hoop just in time to block the powerful shot. 

            The crowd cheered. 

            Ron, smiling, returned to his place guarding the hoops. Angelina had the Quaffle. She passed it deftly to Alicia who rushed to the scoring area. Ron had his eye on her as well as Katie, who was at the other extremity of the field, just outside of the scoring area. 

            Alicia made a motion indicating that she was intending to throw the Quaffle to Katie, who would then move in for the score. Harry was impressed with how well Ron was doing. The Chasers were pulling every trick, trying to score. 

            Ron backed off of Alicia slightly and moved toward Katie, betting on her to make the score.  Alicia, taking advantage of his moment of caution and uncertainty, threw the Quaffle as hard as she could. Ron raced forward to block the shot, but the distance was too great for him to cover. Alicia had scored, but Ron had put up an impressive fight. 

            Harry glanced at Fred and George who were beaming and noting their little brother's performance on their parchment. 

            Ron walked over to the other contestants who had already taken their shot at the Keeper position. 

            Harry smiled, as he saw Ron beaming amid the praises of his housemates. Harry turned his attention to his parchment. Ron's was the best show of skill he had witnessed all morning. He marked a ten next to his name. 

            "Last, but not least," Lee announced with a flourish, "Dean Thomas, fifth year."

            Dean walked up to the Chasers with confidence. Harry remembered Dean mentioning to him that he had played the position of goalie on a football team in Southampton, his hometown. 

            It was no surprise to Harry that Dean did not give the slightest show of apprehension. 

            The four players took their places. Immediately after they had ascended, the three Chasers began a ruthless game. Harry imagined that Angelina would be pretty determined not to let another inexperienced hopeful show her up. 

            She handed the Quaffle off to Katie who circled the field. She then tossed the ball quickly across the pitch to Alicia who was waiting just outside of the scoring area. Alicia lobbed the Quaffle with all of her remaining strength at the hoop. Dean, who was occupied on the other side of the pitch by Angelina, had barely enough time to make it to the far goal hoop. But, to the surprise of everyone, he stopped in front of the ball and knocked it out of the area with the tail end of his broom. 

            The crowd went uproariously wild. 

            Angelina, Katie and Alicia looked vexed as they regrouped mid-field. 

            Alicia held the Quaffle as the other two reached their predetermined positions. She threw the ball to Katie. Katie took the ball and charged Dean, Quaffle tucked securely under one arm. Angelina was at the opposite reaches of the scoring area. Dean was not distracted by her presence, however. Katie, gaining speed, threatened to crash violently with Dean. 

            At the last possible moment, she pulled up and hurled the Quaffle toward the middle hoop. 

Dean, taking both hands off of his broom and reaching as high as he could manage, caught the Quaffle with the tips of his fingers. He smiled as he tossed the Quaffle back to Angelina, who was clearly incensed. 

Harry could tell that she had sized up her opponent and would no longer hold back; she intended to give Dean everything she had. 

Angelina tossed the Quaffle to Katie, who hung back, waiting for a signal from either one of her teammates.  Alicia moved up to the scoring area. Angelina made a sign to Katie, who threw the ball to her Captain.

Angelina charged Dean. Clearly intending to frighten him into giving up his ground, Angelina rushed headlong at Dean. He had no intention of complying with her, however. Dean moved to block the approaching Chaser. Angelina quickly circumvented him and threw the Quaffle at the hoop. Dean hardly had a chance to react. Angelina was impossibly fast!

She scored. 

The crowd cheered as Dean joined Ron and the others. Angelina, Katie and Alicia descended and walked over to congratulate the contestants for playing an excellent game. 

Harry turned to observe the reactions of the rest of his teammates. Fred and George were in rapid discussion. "I don't know, it looks like it's going to be a rather hard decision," Fred exclaimed, giving Harry a meaningful glance. "Yeah, Ron and Dean both played a bloody good game. I mean, it couldn't have been easy. Those girls are terrifying!" George added. Harry couldn't help but nod in agreement. 

Alicia walked over to Lee. Harry heard her giving him instructions. "Tell this lot that the team will announce their decision in the common room tonight, okay?" Lee nodded his assent. He made the necessary announcement as Alicia, Angelina and Katie joined Harry, Fred and George in the stands. The contenders were joined by the crowd of spectators as they all made their way into the castle. 

"Hold on a minute, alright?" Harry beseeched his teammates. 

"Sure," Angelina agreed absentmindedly, scribbling notes on a piece of parchment, "but don't be too long, we have an important decision to make." She glanced up at Harry as he ran over to the crowd. 

He found Ron among the throng of students. Hermione was congratulating him warmly as Neville added the occasional praise over the din. 

"Ron, that was great!" Harry raised his voice in order to be heard. 

"Yeah, Dean was better, though," Ron replied with slight disappointment. 

"Meet you at dinner?" Harry offered as Ron, Hermione and Neville alighted the front steps to the castle.

"Yeah, see you," Ron said before disappearing inside. 

As Harry rejoined the team, he listened to the debate that had begun in his absence. "Well, he certainly gave us a run for our money," Katie reluctantly added. "But could he do that against the Slytherins?" George remarked with one eyebrow cocked. 

"Their Beaters are malicious. They'll pick off a new Keeper like a lame herd animal," Fred seconded his brother's opinion. 

"Yeah, but remember; Derrick is gone. They'll be playing with one new Beater," Angelina reminded them all. 

"I think Ron's tough enough to handle even Derrick," George retorted, obviously reaching frustration, "I mean, he's put up with five older brother's, hasn't he?"

"Well, that's in his favor, no question about that," Katie laughed, settling George by rubbing his shoulders. "Yeah, the kid must be tough. Think about it; fifteen years with you two alone-," Angelina added with a smirk in Fred's direction, but was unable to finish as she dodged a casual kick. "You just keep digging that hole, Mr. Weasley," she raised her eyebrows like a mother threatening her misbehaving child, "don't be surprised when I bury you in it." She aimed a kick at his shin and hit her mark. "Ow!" Fred jumped back and ceased his teasing. 

"Okay, let's get serious here. We have a tough decision to make," Angelina explained, all business-like, "We have two obvious choices, Dean and Ron. They both demonstrated skill and daring out there today, but only one can take Oliver's place. And since we won't reach that decision by debating the point, we'll have to put it to a vote. Is everyone in agreement that each individual decision remains in this group?" Angelina paused to look around at her teammates, all of which nodded their agreement. 

            "Okay, if there are no more questions then I'll start," she paused and surveyed the group again, the solemnest of looks on her face. "My vote goes to Dean Thomas."

            Katie and Alicia followed suit and voted for Dean. 

            George followed the girls with and adamant, "I vote Ron!"

            He looked to Fred, who spoke next, "Dean," he voted to everyone's astonishment. His eyes fell automatically to his feet. "Well, he showed more skill out there," Fred defended his vote as George stared at him in disbelief, "I just think he'd be better for the team."

            "I guess we don't need my vote then," Harry added after a moment of glares between Fred and George. 

            "Sure," Angelina said with an encouraging smile, "we would still like to know your opinion, Harry."

            "Ron," Harry said, trying to mask the disappointment he felt on behalf of his friend. 

            "Well, that's it settled then," Angelina remarked as the team stood up and turned toward the school, "I'll announce Dean as our new Keeper tonight."

            As Harry walked with the others to Gryffindor Tower, Angelina reminded them all once again to keep the voting confidential. Harry could only imagine how much Angelina's news was going to upset Ron. 

            In the common room, Hermione and Ron were waiting for Harry. Hermione was receiving a merciless beating in a game of chess. They both stopped as soon as they saw Harry and the others enter. Harry came over to them and sat to watch their nearly finished game. 

            Angelina, Katie and Alicia announced that they were going upstairs to clean up for dinner. Fred and George came over to join Harry, Ron and Hermione. 

"So?" Ron questioned. 

"Uh, uh, little brother. Not until after dinner," Fred shook a finger at him. 

Harry pretended to be interested in the game, but was more than distracted by his thoughts. He didn't even hear Ron call, "checkmate!" or Hermione propose that they all head down to dinner. 

"Harry?" Hermione looked concerned. 

"Huh?" he said, slowly coming back to the present moment. 

"Are you coming?" she repeated.

"Right," he tried to sound cheerier than he felt. 

They ate dinner quickly. (Everyone, that its, but Harry. He was dreading the announcement that awaited them when they returned to Gryffindor Tower). Harry, Ron and Hermione were among the first students to return. They took seats at one of the long tables that filled the common room. Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Katie followed shortly after. 

Angelina climbed on top of the table and began to pace. 

Dean came through the portrait hole followed by Seamus. 

"How's your arm, Seamus?" Harry inquired as the two joined them at the table. 

"Fine," Seamus answered cheerfully, "although I can't believe I fell off of my broom in front of everyone." Harry smiled at Seamus, who seemed to find the humor in his mishap and smiled back. 

The room had filled up quickly. 

Angelina called for silence, "All those who tried out did a wonderful job," she encouraged first off. "It was difficult to narrow down our choices. But, after much deliberation, the team voted and a Keeper for Gryffindor has been chosen."

Harry's stomach tightened into knots.

He heard Ron suck in a ragged breath of air and hold it in anticipation. 

He had a deep sense of foreboding at what was coming next.

"The new Keeper for the Gryffindor House Team is," Angelina continued in the midst of a rapt audience, "Dean Thomas."


	6. An Image With a Message

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Rowling does. I own Anni only and possibly others on down the road.

Author's Note: Yes, no one is as disappointed as I am that Ron didn't make the team but there's more out there for him than just Quidditch. He'll get over it. He's tough.

Chapter Six

An image with a message

"Don't draw the Queen of Diamonds boy, she'll beat you if she's able…" 

            A look of disappointment spread quickly across Ron's features. The next moment it turned to realization. With flushed cheeks Ron turned to Harry as if to say something, then thought better of it. Harry watched on as he congratulated Dean with a forced smile and disappeared through the portrait hole. Harry knew that Ron would take the news badly, but he wasn't expecting this. He had a feeling that Ron suspected it was he who had voted against him, but the next instant, he shrugged it off. 

            Instinctively, Harry started for the portrait hole and after his best friend, but a hand on his shoulder held him gently back. 

            "I'll go," Hermione whispered with a look that told Harry she suspected Ron was blaming him as well. He watched her disappear behind the portrait of the Fat Lady and slowly made his way up the stairs and to the door marked "Fifth Year Boys". 

            He sat there on his bed for a while, waiting for Ron to turn up. Harry wanted him to know that he'd voted for him. He thought Ron had done a brilliant job out there. He thought Ron should know that, at least.

            But, no matter how much he wanted to let Ron know that it wasn't he who had voted against him, he couldn't disclose his vote without exposing the others', namely Ron's own brother, Fred. Fred had voted for the good of the team. Dean proved that he could handle the demanding position. They both had, really. It was a tough decision, but Harry would stand by his own and Fred by his. 

            He spent much of the night going over these points in his mind. 

            Neville, Dean and Seamus had all come up and had since been fast asleep, before Harry himself drifted off. He did not hear Ron come in at all. 

            A gentle knock on the dormitory door woke Harry the next morning. 

            He reached over to the table beside his bed and put his glasses on. 

            Hermione's head poked through the door just as Harry was about to say, "Come in".  

            The room was empty except for the two of them. Harry wondered how late in the day it was. He hadn't gotten to sleep, he remembered, until about two in the morning. 

            Ron still hadn't turned up. He noted the empty bed by the door. 

            "What time is it?" Harry asked, pulling himself into a sitting position. 

            "Ten-thirty," answered Hermione coming to stand next to his bed. "I talked to Ron last night," she added solemnly. 

            "And?" Harry prompted. 

            Hermione looked down at her shoes as she spoke. "He's mad."

            "Yes, well I could have guessed as much," Harry said a bit more crossly than he had meant to. Hermione either didn't notice or pretended not to. 

            "He wouldn't say much else." After a slight pause, she added, "Want to take a walk with me? It's a nice day out."

            Harry nodded, relieved at the suggestion. Hermione moved toward the door, turning the handle, she instructed, "I'll meet you on the front steps in fifteen." With that she swept out of the room and shut the door. 

            Harry distractedly changed and pulled a sweater over his head. He turned to the mirror and ran a careless hand through his hair in a hopeless attempt to tame it. "It'll do no good, dear." Harry shook his head and dismissed the mirror's comments. They were never encouraging. 

            As he descended the marble staircase to the Great Hall, he was reminded of the last time Ron had really gotten mad at him. Ron had thought that Harry found a way past the Age Barrier and into the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. He wouldn't believe Harry when he'd said that he had no idea who'd entered him. Ron wouldn't speak to him for nearly a month. Harry realized with much dismay that this was becoming a tradition of sorts with the two of them. As he walked out the large front doors and into the late morning sun, he shook off the unpleasant thought and hoped that Ron would come around a lot sooner this time. 

            Hermione was sitting on the bottom step in front of the castle holding toast in one hand and propping her chin up on the other. She turned as she heard Harry's footsteps and smiled.

            "Are you hungry?" she asked offering him the stack of toast in her hand. He took it gratefully and they headed in the direction of the lake. 

            "So he's avoiding me, then?" Harry asked, making reference to their brief conversation upstairs and throwing his last scrap of toast in the lake and watching it sink. 

            Hermione nodded and turned to face Harry. "Harry, its not your fault. You did the right thing. I don't want to know how you voted," she held her hands up in front of her, "But, however it went, I know you had the good of the team in mind." Her words were not that comforting.

            Harry looked down at his feet and kicked at a twig absently. This was a great situation that he found himself in, he thought in a rather sarcastic tone. He would gladly tell Ron how he had voted, but he was bound to secrecy by the rest of the team. Moreover, the disclosure of his vote would automatically bring Fred or George under suspicion. Harry couldn't do that to either of them. 

            The two walked for a while longer, coming to no clear conclusion on how Harry should approach Ron. They didn't need to, for in that moment Harry looked up, startled. He and Hermione stopped along the trail leading from the lake when Ron came around the corner talking with angry animation to Ginny, who walked silently beside him. 

            Harry watched as Ron stopped in his tracks, his sister following suit. She shot Harry a brief but piteous look before her gaze settled on the ground in front of her. Harry knew that no matter how Ron told the story, Ginny would not take sides against one for the other. This was a unique characteristic that she possessed. Harry found it, well, fascinating to say the least. She could never bring herself to think ill of another person, let alone speak it. It just wasn't her nature. Harry was quick to learn that. He had no worries that she would take sides against him. 

            Ron, however, stared adamantly at Harry, who returned his gaze, willing himself to hold the stare no matter how much Ron's aversion bore down on him. 

            Hermione finally broke the silence. 

            "Oh honestly, you two. Enough!"

            "You just couldn't stand it, could you?" Ron spat after a brief pause. 

            "Stand what?" Harry asked, perplexed, but in a voice so calm he surprised himself. He was feeling exactly the opposite, nervous, afraid that a wrong word would jeopardize his dearest friendship. Also, not wanting to betray the team's confidence, he felt claustrophobic in the tight spot in which he now found himself. 

            "Stand what!" Ron repeated Harry's words in a venomous tone. Ginny's hand went to his arm as if to subtly keep his anger in check. "You didn't want me on the team. Afraid I was going to take the spotlight from the star Quidditch player and all around famous Harry Potter?" he spat tugging his arm from Ginny's warning grasp. 

            "Ron that's not—," Harry was cut off in the middle of his explanation as Ron moved threateningly closer. 

            "You voted for Dean, Harry. You didn't want me on the team. I'm not stupid!" Ron's furry caused Harry to step back in surprise. Hermione moved back with him. Ginny remained fixed to her spot behind Ron. The three of them stared at him in utter disbelief as Ron launched into a conspiracy theory where Harry and Dean had consorted against him. It included a lot of name-calling and alleged backstabbing. 

            Harry stood by and let him. He was actually a little worried about what Ron might do if he had tried to interrupt him. 

            Ron's eyes settled on Hermione, who had moved to stand next to Harry defensively. He studied her for a moment and then added in a softer, but no less livid tone, "Guess I've lost both of my friends now," and pushed roughly past the two of them. "Rita Skeeter wasn't too far off her mark about you, Hermione."

            Harry caught the series of looks exchanged between Hermione and Ginny. Hermione seemed startled only slightly by Ron's callous and uncalled for censure and Ginny seemed determined to follow behind Ron and make his apologies for flying off the handle. Hermione turned to watch Ron's lanky form stalk off toward the glittering water. Harry turned to watch as well and Ginny skirted timidly around the two of them, muttering a quiet, "I'm sorry," which in Harry's opinion was totally uncalled for. She hadn't done anything wrong and had no need to be sorry for any part of that scene. That scene was Ron's fault entirely, from anyone's viewpoint. If he were sorry for any of it, Ron would have to apologize for himself.  

            "Well, that didn't go well at all," Hermione observed sarcastically, "He's more upset than I would have thought."

            Harry could only agree with a nod, having lost his voice somewhere on the path between there and the lake. His hopes for Ron coming around sooner than later dashed along the way as well. He let out the breath he'd been holding and the two silently agreed to return to the common room and out of the sun. 

            "I think I'm going to grab my books and head to the library," Hermione said, breaking the long silence as they climbed the marble staircase and headed for the Tower. "You coming?" she added, climbing through the portrait hole and into the common room. 

            Harry surveyed the empty room and the blazing fire then answered, "no, I don't have anything to study for, I'll just stay here."

            Hermione shrugged and dashed upstairs. 

            As Harry approached the cluster of cushy chairs by the fire, he noticed that he wasn't, in fact, alone. Alicia Spinnet was smiling up at him from one of the chairs that had, up until then, concealed her presence. 

            "Sorry, I didn't know anyone else was here," Harry stammered as Alicia motioned for him to take the chair next to her. As he sat, she surveyed him carefully. 

            "Ron blames you for not making the team doesn't he?" she asked heading straight to the point of the matter. Harry nodded. "I was afraid of that. I'm sorry, Harry," she added sympathetically. 

            "He thinks it was me-," Harry began to explain and Alicia nodded in understanding. 

            "So why don't you just tell him that you voted for him?" Alicia asked diplomatically. 

            "I promised the team I wouldn't-," Harry began to say but stopped as Alicia held up a hand. 

            "Harry, just tell him. That rule is total crap. No one really follows it, you know," she said with a slight chuckle. 

            Harry, however, remained grave and serious. "If I told Ron that it wasn't me then he would automatically suspect Fred. That's not exactly fair, is it?" Harry asked hopelessly. 

            "Do you think Ron would believe you if you did tell him how you voted," Alicia asked in answer to his question. 

            Harry thought about this for a moment and spoke slowly, "I dunno, he's very mad at me. I don't think he would believe anything that I said at the moment."

            "Then, your telling him won't do either of you any good," she said very decidedly, "Tell you what, I'll talk to Fred and tell him what's going on with Ron. I'm sure he wouldn't mind talking to Ron. If he's to be mad at anyone it should be Fred, not you Harry."

            A wave of relief suddenly washed over him. Finally, there was an end in sight to all of this madness. Ron would surely listen to Fred. Harry nodded and was about to accept Alicia's proposal when he heard the distracted conversation of Fred and George as the two approached from the dormitory stairs. 

            As the two boys passed Alicia and Harry, George threw and envelope at Harry and added, "Thomas delivered that this morning." With a grin they continued out the portrait hole and down the hall. 

            Alicia watched them carefully until they were safely out of hearing distance and then turned back to Harry, "Do you mind if I talk to Fred about all of this, Harry?"

            "Sure, if you think it'll do any good," Harry shrugged hoping secretly that it would do some good. It wasn't very pleasant being on Ron's list, he was fast finding out. 

            Alicia nodded and headed out the portrait hole and after Fred. 

            Harry sat back and stared at the fire absently for a moment before reaching down and picking Anni's letter up from his lap. He opened it and read. 

            It was basically a list of the pranks she had managed to pull in her first week, followed by praise for her new owl. At the end of the letter she added a few lines about how sweet George was for giving her Thomas and finally, the closing remark made Harry shake his head darkly. It read: "How did Ron make out in the trials for your team? You have to tell me everything."

            Oh there was a lot to tell, Harry thought, but nothing good, however. 

            He folded the letter and stuffed it in a pocket of his trousers and drifted off by the fire. He really hadn't gotten much sleep the night before and he hadn't even realized that he had begun to doze in the common room. 

            Abruptly shaken from his peaceful slumber by the warm fire, Harry sat up about three hours later. He tried desperately to remember the strange images that had passed over his eyelids as he dreamt. He couldn't shake the odd feeling of foreboding that the images had brought with them. He vaguely remembered a sword. The sword of Gryffindor, perhaps. It was the only sword that he had actually seen, though, try as hard as he might, he couldn't recall that image that he had seen perfectly only a few seconds before.  

            "Harry?" a disembodied voice called his name, softly prodding his shoulder to wake him.  Harry adjusted his glasses and waited for his eyes to focus. A slight, fuzzy reddish blur gently dissolved itself into Ginny who was standing next to his chair staring at him. 

            "Aren't you hungry at all?" she asked timidly removing her hand from his arm and placing it into a pocket of her robes. 

            "What time is it?" he asked her, groggily looking about the room and seeing no one else there. "How long have I slept?" he asked himself, feeling sheepish at the same moment. 

            "Its ten after six. Harry are you alright," Ginny gave a tentative raise of her eyebrows. 

            "Fine, Ginny. Just didn't get a lot of sleep last night is all," Harry explained as he stood to stretch. 

            "I'm sorry about all of that, Harry," Ginny murmured, not meeting his eyes, "down by the lake, I mean. Ron was just upset. He didn't know that it was Fred-."

            "Fred talked to Ron?" Harry cut Ginny off. She nodded but said nothing. Harry noticed, not for the first time, that Ginny was looking paler than usual and there were dark smudges under her eyes. Harry wondered for a moment if she had been sick, but felt that it would be nosy to ask.      

            "Where is he, d'you know? I need to talk to him," he asked taking Anni's letter from his pocket and scribbling a hurried reply and folding it to take up to the Owlery after dinner. 

            "He's at dinner with everyone else," Ginny shrugged and retreated up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

            Curious, Harry thought, that Ginny was skiving off dinner. He dismissed the thought. Maybe she wasn't hungry. 

            He hurried through the portrait hole and down to dinner to find Ron. 

            As he passed the empty Transfiguration classroom, however, all thoughts of talking with Ron were driven far from his mind. Harry heard a familiar voice call his name as he passed the doorway to the empty classroom. 

            Harry turned around and his throat constricted as he gulped at the unexpected sight of Cho Chang. 

            "Can we have a talk?" she asked in a trembling voice.

***

Harry swallowed hard. He had a feeling that the conversation he was about to have with Cho would be in no way pleasant and he reluctantly conceded. "Sure," he said hoping that it had come across in a very off-hand, I don't mind at all way. 

            He was startled at the grave look on her face. She looked terrible, he was sorry to admit. She had that sort of deadened, haunted look on her pale and drawn face, reminding Harry of Sirius as he was, just out of Azkaban, but to a lesser extent. 

            Harry took a seat at one of the desks closest to the door, the thought of having a quick escape at hand ever present in the back of his reeling mind. 

            Watching her pace was maddening. Harry wanted her to get to the point. The next moment he was admonishing himself for his lack of patience with her. The least he could give her, he thought, was a few minutes to get whatever it was that was bothering her off of her chest. 

            She stopped pacing abruptly and spoke, "I don't really know you that well," she began. Her words were so strained that it was apparent to Harry that she was forcing herself to say this against her will or better judgment, or both. She continued, "but I have to ask a favor of you, Harry," she met his eyes only briefly and then they automatically fell to the floor. "You don't have to if you don't want to though," she stammered guiltily. 

            Harry felt compelled to give her whatever it was she asked of him, if it might relieve half of the anxiety that she was feeling at the moment. "Anything," he said hopefully. 

            She turned away from him and walked toward Professor McGonagall's vacant desk. "Tell me how Cedric died, Harry."

            He was speechless for a good few minutes. At first he had hoped that he misunderstood her request, but he had not. He certainly did not expect such a request. He never spoke of that night to anyone other than Dumbledore, and that was only out of necessity. He was reluctant to inflict pain so acute on Cho. Such a story could only bring about pain, he reasoned. What else could come of it? Yet, he promised her anything he could do to help, if help could be had by such a horrendous recounting of events. 

            He tried another tack as a final resort. "You really don't want to hear about it," he said uncertainly, knowing full well that it wouldn't work. He would have to tell her. 

            She rounded on him and moved closer, making him very uneasy. "Tell me please. I have to know what happened to him." Tears streamed down her pale olive cheeks now and her voice was unsteady. 

            Out of pity for her and nothing else, Harry reluctantly launched into the nightmare of last June. He told her everything that involved Cedric and nothing more. He didn't want the particular details about his involvement with the rebirthing of the most feared Dark Wizard of their time out in the open like that. He was still feeling a particularly painful pang of responsibility for the fact that Voldemort was returned to his original power. 

            He realized in that moment, watching Cho as she grieved Cedric, how serious their relationship had become in those final months before his death. She sat down hard on the ground and covered her face with her hands. 

            Harry watched on with regret. "I shouldn't have told you, I'm sorry," He stammered guiltily. Watching her shoulders heave as she drew in every shuddering breath. 

            She looked up at him from where she was sitting on the floor, her lips and eyes puffy from crying. "Nonsense, Harry. None of this was your fault. Please understand that." She wiped her cheeks on the sleeve of her indigo cardigan and stood up. "Thank you for telling me all of this, Harry. I needed to hear it."

            Harry gave her a weak smile and nodded. Staring at her a moment longer, he imagined her with Cedric at the Yule Ball. He remembered the unabashedly happy expressions the two of them wore the entire evening. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how much his death had affected her. He was overcome with a sense of pity for the poor girl as he watched her mourn Cedric, but felt no hint of the childish crush he had been harboring the previous year. Indeed, too much had happened. If any of them had still fancied themselves children after all that had happened in June, they must face the realization that they would all have to grow up soon. Bad things were coming, Harry could sense them like one can smell rain on the way even if the tell tale clouds were miles off. They would all have to grow up before their time. 

            Harry felt that their conversation had come to and end and sensed that Cho wanted to be left with her thoughts. He couldn't think of one appropriate thing to say as he got up to leave and so said the first thing that popped into his fuzzy mind, "So, I'll see you at the game then?" and immediately regretted it. What an idiot!

            Cho seemed to sense his uneasiness and gave him a comforting smile. "I quit the team, I'm afraid." She walked over to where he stood, his hand on the handle ready to leave. "I'm sorry you had to trudge up all of those horrible memories, but it has helped more than you can know."

She leaned over and gently kissed his cheek. 

            "Bye then," Harry said weakly pushing the door open. 

            "I hope I see you around from time to time, Harry," she smiled and sat down in his vacant seat. "I do too," he agreed and shut the door to the classroom leaving Cho to her thoughts and Harry to his as he walked back to the Tower slowly, deciding to skip dinner as he'd lost his appetite. Harry hadn't even noticed that he had come to the portrait of the Fat Lady who interrupted his thoughts with a, "What's the matter dear? You look like you've been hit repeatedly by a Bludger."

            Harry ignored the comment, however well meaning, gave the password and retreated to the common room. Seeing a shock of red hair bobbing behind the high back of a chair by the fire, Harry suddenly remembered his eagerness to talk to Ron. 

            "Checkmate!" Ron yelled as Seamus threw up his hands in defeat and moved to a table where Dean was working on an essay. Harry took Seamus' vacated place and collapsed with a huff, taking his glasses off and passing a weary hand over his eyes. Even with the long and nearly peaceful nap he had taken today he felt ready to crash again. 

            Ron noticed his friend's peculiar behavior immediately and voiced his concern. "Harry what is it? What's wrong?"

            "Talked to Cho just now," Harry informed him and Ron didn't seemed to pick up on the significance of this statement. 

            "Oh. What did she have to say?" he asked dimly. 

            "She wanted to talk about Cedric," Harry said, giving his friend a little disbelieving glance as if he was surprised that he hadn't picked up on it yet. He replaced his glasses and sat up to help Ron clear the chessboard between them. 

            "Ah," Ron said, apparently enlightened, "Are you alright, Harry?" 

            Harry smile, grateful for Ron's show of concern and answered, "I'm fine. But I don't think Cho is. D'you know she quit the team?" Harry was eager to change the subject. 

            "Really?" Ron said, surprised by the news, "First I've heard of it." He shrugged. 

            Harry only nodded. 

            Seeing that Harry would rather talk about anything else, Ron turned the conversation. 

            "Listen Harry, I talked to Fred," Ron began tentatively. 

            "No. Its okay, Ron, really. I understand. I'm just glad you're speaking to me again, leaving off yelling at me and calling me a liar," he added with a half smile. Ron blushed with embarrassment at the allusion to the earlier conversation that they'd had by the lake. 

            "I'm sorry, Harry I really am," Ron stammered staring intently at Harry. 

            "Ron, I was joking. I forgive you. It was an honest mistake-," Harry explained. 

            "I should have believed you, though," Ron looked guilty and Harry had had enough serious conversation for one day and so decided to lighten the mood. 

            "Play me in chess and if I win you have to make a public apology standing on that table," Harry indicated the table where Dean and Seamus were jointly revising an essay on Runes, "If you win, which is entirely likely, you forget about the entire thing."

            "Deal," Ron said with a wide grin. 

            "Let the Ron Weasley chess game-type-flogging begin," Harry announced with one move of his white pawn. Ron chuckled slightly and conceded. 

***

Harry, Ron and Hermione descended the dark and drafty stone staircase into a hall, much the same in character. They entered the dugeon where Professor Snape's potions class typically met. Half of the class had already assembled and taken their seats, including Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and a dozen other Slytherins Harry despised. 

            As he took a seat close to the back of the room with Ron and Hermione, he could hear Malfoy's overly audible comments about Ron's performance at the Quidditch Trials. "And he was beat out by that Muggle-born, Thomas, who'd probably never ridden a broom before."

            "Ignore him, Ron," Hermione instructed under her breath as she patted his arm appeasingly. 

            Harry watched as Ron turned a furious gaze from Malfoy, who sneered briefly in his direction, to Dean who turned around to give him an apologetic sort of shrug. 

            Ron shook it off, something highly out of character for him and something Harry would have thought impossible, given the situation. 

            Someone at the front of the room cleared their throat impatiently and the class turned their attention to a haggard looking, sleep deprived Snape, who was even paler than he had been last time Harry had seen him, if that was possible without going transparent all together.

            Seeing him in this state, Harry made a mental note not to push his buttons today.            

            "I am putting forth this warning in advance," Snape calmly surveyed his class, "I have already taken fifty points from Gryffindor this afternoon, do not give me a reason to take more." His coal black eyes settled on Harry, Ron and Hermione as he finished, as if to communicated that this warning applied to the three of them specifically. 

            Snape entered into a discussion on Cloaking Potions, pacing at the front of the room as the class sat fixed to their seats, afraid to make the slightest move and lose their house points. The class was divided into pairs and set to work on drafting their own weak form of the complicated concoction. Snape passed between the rows of students to check their progress and criticize them often. When he had reached a safe distance from their table, Ron turned to Harry to observe, "He's back, but he looks like hell!"

            "Do you think he was there? You know, with them?" Harry asked, tossing a handful of Mandrake leaves into the bubbling cauldron. 

            "Where else could he have been this entire time?" Ron shrugged, consulting his potions book for instructions.

            After class they met Hermione in the hall. She had stayed behind to help Neville clean up the ooze that had leaked from his cauldron when he removed it from the heat a bit too late, losing another twenty points for Gryffindor.

            "Did you two notice how, well, awful Professor Snape looked?" she asked with mild concern. 

            "We noticed," said Ron casually. 

            "He was with the Death Eaters all this time," Hermione whispered conspiratorially, "I know it." 

            The three of them stopped in front of the portrait hole and Ron gave the password. 

            Harry rushed upstairs to change for Quidditch practice and grab his Firebolt. The team was meeting down on the pitch in ten minutes. When Harry entered the room, he was surprised to see a Tawny owl perched on his pillow, a letter tied to its leg. 

            Harry threw the pile of books he was lugging onto the bed and quickly undid the string, relieving the owl of its burden. The letter was contained in a blank, white envelope. There was nothing at all written on it.

            Harry examined the letter curiously as the owl fluttered off through the open window. 

            As he opened it, however, he immediately recognized the hurried writing that filled the single page of parchment. It was from Sirius. Harry hoped inwardly, scanning the page, that it didn't contain any horrible news. 

            Harry, 

            Remus and I are on the trail of something very important to the cause. I am afraid I cannot take long to write. We will be heading for the continent in the morning. I just wanted to check in on you. I hope you are settled in well at school. You haven't written in a while and so your first two weeks at school remain a mystery to me, but I hope you're doing well. I know how worried you were about coming back to Hogwarts but trust me that everything will be fine and you are in the safest place I can think to keep you. You are well protected there with Dumbledore I assure you, Harry. But all the same, I cannot be there with you, in person, so I would greatly appreciate it if you kept me updated often. I regret that the task at hand will not allow me much time to answer your letters, but hearing from you is important to me. Please let me know immediately if you have any more dreams or if anything at all out of the ordinary occurs. Please promise me, Harry. Also, don't hesitate to go to Dumbledore with anything that bothers you, especially any new dreams, Harry. That's very important. If you should have any more pain in your scar or any dreams, please go to Dumbledore and owl me immediately.

            Please be safe, Harry. No wondering about the castle, as you are often prone to do. It's not safe at this time. 

            Sirius

            Harry sat down at the foot of his bed, letter still in hand. He felt awful that he had made Sirius worry and yet he was oddly comforted by the fact that someone was worrying about him. 

            He folded the letter, making a mental note to write back after practice and send the letter out after dinner. Oh yeah, he remembered that he hadn't sent Anni's letter either and placed both on his desk to remind himself to take them down with him to dinner. 

            Right now, he was late for practice. 

            As Harry ran down to the Quidditch pitch he heard Angelina rant to the other five team members in a very Oliver Wood-like tone, "We're going to make it two in a row, team!" she shouted vehemently. 

            Fred, finding her zeal amusing corrected, "Actually, Angelina, its not two in a row. Last year Quidditch was cancelled and therefore…" he trailed off as Angelina shot him a warning glance. 

            Harry joined the others while Angelina continued with a list of diversionary tactics to cover for the practice session. 

            "Let's get it right, team. The Ravenclaw match is in three weeks," she demanded as the team broke off into groups for warm-up. 

            Throughout practice, Harry was impressed with Dean's abilities as Keeper. He had proven to be equal in skill to their former Keeper, and in some ways, far superior to Oliver's talent. Their chances at the Quidditch Cup looked better than ever.           

            After practice, Harry ran quickly back up to Gryffindor Tower. He was eager to write Sirius back. 

            He deposited the Firebolt in his trunk and picked up the letter, rereading it. Taking a blank piece of parchment, he quickly wrote out an apology for his absence in writing for the last two weeks. He explained how busy he was and his slight problem with Ron. He promised, at the end of the letter, that should anything at all out of the ordinary happen, he and Dumbledore would be the first to know about it. 

            He changed out of his practice robes and grabbed both of the letters, stuffing them in his pocket to take to the Owlery later. 

            As he descended the staircase from the dormitories into the common room he caught the unmistakable sound of Fred and George discussing the details of one of their infamous plots. 

            "Can't do it tonight, we have detention, remember?" George warned, or maybe it was Fred. 

            "Damn! Tomorrow night then?" the other asked. 

            "Sounds good," George conceded, Harry could see upon entering the room that the last one to speak was, in fact, George. 

            He interrupted their conversation curiously, "What's the detention for?"

            He took a seat across from Fred as they related the story. 

            "Snape," Fred replied simply. 

            Realization dawned on Harry, "Was it the two of you that lost fifty points for Gryffindor earlier today?" he asked. 

            George nodded, "What else did that slimy git say about us?"

            "Nothing," Harry shrugged, "What exactly did you do?"

            The two of them exchanged mischievous grins. "Well," George launched into an explanation of how the two of them had earned detention from Snape. "Fred was being a stupid prat and passing a note in class. Something about Angelina's plan for revenge he'd stumbled onto. But that's not the point. My dear brother," George glared at Fred, "was also making inferences about me and your cousin-," George was cut off by Fred. 

            "I didn't know Snape was watching," he shrugged. 

            "Anyway, Snape did see you passing that very incriminating piece of parchment and asked to see it," George glared harder at his brother. All of this was very entertaining, Harry thought. 

            Fred took the ball and ran with it, " George took the paper and promptly shoved it into his mouth and ate it." They both dissolved into raucous laughter. Harry followed suit. After a while he gained enough composure to ask, "What is your detention then?"

            "Gutting rats," Fred said with a wrinkled nose followed by a noise of disgust from George. "Aw, but it was worth it," George conceded, "just to see the veins popping out on Snape's forehead, he must have turned at least five shades of red."

            "Priceless," Fred added.

            "Fred," Harry added finally, after a moment of uncontrollable laughter. 

            "Yeah?" Fred answered as he sobered up a bit. 

            "Thanks for clearing things up with Ron," finished Harry.

            "Oh, no problem, mate. I was a bit surprised myself that he hadn't suspected me automatically," he replied honestly. "He's still ignoring me, but he'll get over it," he added with a careless shrug. 

            Harry smiled and headed for the portrait hole and to the Owlery with his letters. As he did, Angelina, Alicia and Katie entered the common room laughing hard. They spotted Fred and George by the fire. Angelina approached the two of them and ruffled Fred's hair playfully as she joked with George, "Hey, billy-goat, when's your detention tonight?"

            George made a comment that was lost on Harry as Alicia had come over to him and asked, "Is everything okay with Ron?"

            Harry nodded, "Yeah, thanks for talking with Fred. Ron's stopped ignoring me."

            She smiled in reply. She was obviously pleased with her work and stated that it was all her pleasure to help. 

            Harry walked out and up to the Owlery. 

***

Ron and Hermione were already sitting in the Great Hall when Harry came in for dinner. He was immediately startled by their identical, gloomy expressions. 

            "What's going on you two," he asked anxiously. 

            Ron tossed a copy of the Daily Prophet on Harry's empty plate. "It's started," he added darkly, glancing at Hermione who was staring at her food glumly. Harry looked between the two of them then picked up the paper. His stomach seemed to drop instantly and unpleasantly as he read. 

**Dark Mark Appears Over House in Thorpe Willoughby, York. Three Dead.**

      At approximately one-thirteen this morning, neighbors in the small town of Thorpe Willoughby in the county of York awoke to discover the residence of 420 Candlewick Street in smoldering ruins. Several eyewitnesses are reported to have seen the Dark Mark over the scene of the crime in the early morning hours after the attack. 

      The home of former ministry official in the Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, Simon Beckett, was reportedly besieged by several dark, hooded figures that the wizarding world have come to know as Death Eaters, followers of the Dark Arts faction headed up by the most feared Dark Wizard of our time. Although the leader of this Dark Arts Terrorist Group has not been seen in England for more than a decade, this event follows the same attack pattern that the Death Eaters have been known for in the past. We remind you that attacks very much the same in nature to this most recent even echo those that littered the countryside during the rise of the feared He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, before his apparent demise in autumn of 1981.

      However, the Minister of Magic has denied all claims that any resurgence of the Dark Forces has taken place. "It appears to be a case of several rogue Death Eaters, or perhaps a copycat group, acting of their own accord. Much like last year's attack on four Muggles at the Quidditch World Cup," stated Ministry Spokeswizard, Bernard Fennely-Martin. 

      Former Ministry Employee Simon Beckett was at home at the time of the attack with his wife Belladonna and their grandson Daniel. The three perished in an out-of-control fire that resulted in the destruction of the home, further information pending investigation. 

            At the bottom of the article Harry watched as smoke billowed from a pile of ash and debris that used to be the Beckett home. The Dark Mark, he had seen once before at the Quidditch World Cup, loomed ominously overhead.


	7. The Naming of the Champions

Disclaimer: The characters and their settings belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Bros. No infringement was intended in the writing of this piece. 

Author's Note: If the quotations at the front of each chapter are starting to get a little confusing or you don't recognize them, just sit tight. It will all explain itself at the end of the story. And now on with the show: we've got some Quidditch in this chapter. Dean can show his stuff and, of course, the Chess Champions are announced. Just to head you off at the pass—there is no Harry/Ginny shipping in this story. Enjoy.

Chapter Seven

Naming of the Champions

_"your pain and your hunger, they're drivin' you home…"_

            Harry laid the paper off to the side of his plate. His eyes lingered for a moment on the headline that screamed up to him from the front page, "Three Dead." He couldn't suppress the sick feeling that began to rise slowly in his stomach. He felt responsible for this. It was because of him that Voldemort was back and regaining power. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken…" The words rang in his ears, causing his throat to close up painfully and his vision to blur. He couldn't breath, the guilt was pressing down on his chest like a giant stone. The surrounding noise of a thousand chattering students in the hall vanished completely. 

            He caused this. This was his fault. Three people were dead and he helped Voldemort kill them. Even more would die in the months to come, Harry was sure of it. 

            He looked up to see Ron and Hermione staring at him with concern. He felt as though if he had tried to eat anything it would force its way up immediately. He pushed his empty plate away at the unappealing thought. 

            Sensing the unease Harry felt, Hermione spoke in a low voice, "Harry, this is _not your fault." She held his gaze firmly, locked in a mental tug of war with Harry, who would insist that it was __all his fault. _

            "I'm not hungry," Harry murmured after a moment of silence. Pushing himself away from the table, he got up and quickly left the Great Hall. 

            Harry had no idea where he was headed, but he walked briskly through the halls as if he'd had someplace important to be. He found himself in a length of dark stone passageway, he gathered, somewhere on the third floor. He couldn't shake the image of the ruined house and the Dark Mark above it from his mind. It was like the image had been seared there, where it would remain, permanent. He'd had a hand in the murder of these innocent people, his head pounded with the realization of it. 

            "Harry, dear? Is something wrong?" a voice cooed from a shadowy antechamber off to the left of the corridor. It was a soft and calming, familiar voice, like that of Mrs. Weasley, but with an accent.

            Harry turned to face the voice, seeing that it was Professor Figg standing in the doorway of her Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Crookshanks asleep in her arms. She made a gesture, insisting that he follow her inside. He followed. She lit the room with a careless flick of her wand and continued to the desk at the head of the class, where she turned to face Harry and sat on the edge of it. She seemed to discern his unease and smiled kindly, inviting him to take a seat at one of the desks on the front row. 

            Harry didn't meet her eyes, just stared forlornly at his shoes. One of the laces had come undone, he observed, not caring one way or the other. 

            Professor Figg stroked the purring, ginger cat serenely and stared at Harry intently. Setting Crookshanks gently aside she spoke in a kind and genuinely concerned voice, which comforted Harry slightly, "What is the matter, dear? Why aren't you at dinner?"

            He met her eyes and was shocked at how young she was compared to the old and bent Mrs. Figg he had known years ago. The Professor Figg that sat in front of him now couldn't have been much older than Professor Lupin. There were few wrinkles on her face. Where there were wrinkles, it was only around her eyes and mouth, evidencing the fact that she laughed a lot. 

            "I'm not hungry," Harry replied simply. He didn't feel like delving into an explanation as to how he was found ambling in the third floor corridor.

            "Is something bothering you, Harry?" she waited for a reply. Harry wasn't willing to give one. "So you've heard about the attack, have you?" she raised her eyebrows knowingly. Harry quickly raised his eyes, looking directly into hers. That was amazing, he thought, how could she have guessed. It was the same with Dumbledore, sometimes he knew your answer before you'd have a chance to voice it. 

            She smiled kindly at his bewildered expression. "It was just a guess," she shrugged. She'd done it again. Harry was having the oddest feeling that she was actually reading his mind.

            "I'm not reading your mind, Harry," she said with a shake of her head, taking off her hat and placing it next to Crookshanks. Harry noticed that her hair was a different color than he'd remembered it. It was red instead of gray. And in the place of the McGonagall-esque knot the old Mrs. Figg had worn it in, it was cropped very short, in the way uncle Vernon would describe as decidedly unfeminine. This description would not have fallen far from the truth of Professor Figg. She had been an Auror. From the stories she'd told in class, Harry imagined that she was a pretty tough one at that.       

            "I'm reading your face, dear, your expressions," she explained. "Part of the job, I'm afraid. Force of habit." Harry muttered a weak "Oh," in reply; glad that she could not, in fact read his mind.  Coming back to the actual point of the matter, Professor Figg stared at him hard and in an earnest voice assured him, "You are safe here at school, dear. You have no reason to be alarmed."

            As if to evidence the fact that she could not entirely predict his thoughts, he contradicted her with, "No, I'm not afraid for myself one bit." Harry returned his eyes to the rogue shoelace that was draped defiantly across the ground between the two of his shoes. "Its just," he continued in the hopes that spilling his apprehensions to this strange-and-at-the-same-time-familiar woman would ease the aversion that he was feeling toward himself at the moment. "Its just that those people, the three that died, V-," Harry stopped himself, remembering how no one in the wizarding world spoke the name, "he killed them, didn't he?" He waited for an answer and got a penetrating stare instead. 

            "Don't be afraid to say his name, Harry. He is not so dreadful, really. It is the fear of speaking the name that gives rise to the fear of the person," she said in a prophetic, Dumbeldore-like tone. 

            "Very well, Voldemort killed them and it's my fault that he was able to," Harry spoke quickly, letting the words escape before he had time to stop them. If he was expecting surprise to light her face in any small way, it didn't. She looked affectionately sympathetic and not horrified in the least. She must know, then, he reasoned. She must know everything that happened that night, Dumbledore probably told her.  

            "I knew Mr. Beckett, he was a friend from the ministry, Harry," she spoke slowly, "He was an important figure in the former resistance to the Dark Forces, nearly fifteen years ago. He was a friend to the headmaster as well and one of his most trusted ministry connections. Whoever was behind the attack on his family has ministry connections as well, Harry. They are the ones to blame, not you. You did not order their house burned while they were inside of it. You are not to blame in this matter, Harry, far from it. So stop being so hard on yourself." She heaved a sigh, looking him over once more as she continued in a new and unexploited vein, hoping to convince him of what she felt instinctively, "Harry, I know you think that none of this would have happened if you had done things differently, said something differently, taken a different turn, etcetera, but you have to understand that Voldemort would have come back with or without your help. He has many enemies—all he had to do was pick one of them. He happened to pick you. There's nothing more to it." She smiled.

This smile comforted Harry and seemed to tell him that he was being childish to go on the way he was at the same time. It was a sort of tough love approach that any normal child would have recognized and appreciated, but it is well established that Harry was normal in no way at all. However, he appreciated her speech and it helped more than he could have felt at that moment. And at that moment what he felt was relief and assurance that the deaths of these three innocent people were in no way connected to him. 

As hard as Professor Figg had tried to calm Harry's fears, the one thing she couldn't convince him of was this: Voldemort had found a way into the impenetrable Hogwarts castle three times now to get to him. The foreboding feeling that he would try again, killing scores of innocent people along the way, people Harry cared about, was rising up, uncontrollably in the back of his mind. 

He pondered this likely possibility as he made his way from the third floor up to Gryffindor Tower. It was not a good feeling, he reasoned, to be the target of choice for a feared Dark Wizard, one who would apparently go to great lengths to see you destroyed. He thought with a sickening feeling rising in his stomach, of how many people he had come to love would be endangered by being around him. He pushed the thought aside. That was far more unpleasant than thinking about your own death. 

He shrugged all thoughts of Voldemort off. Well he tried his best to, that is, and trudged up to the boys' dormitory. He was alone at the moment in the dark room lined with five four-poster beds. It was far too early for bed, but he just didn't feel like being around anyone right now. He climbed into his own bed and pulled the curtains around him, blocking out all light. 

***

"Harry, eat something. Please," Hermione implored at breakfast the next morning. Harry didn't argue, but shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth. 

"It won't help any if you starve yourself," and after watching him crumple a whole piece of bacon into his mouth, not chewing it, with a deadpanned expression, she added, "it won't help if you choke yourself either."

He promptly chewed, not taking his eyes from his plate of nearly untouched food. 

"Stop nagging, Hermione," Ron snapped after watching the pathetic exchange between herself and Harry. 

Harry was still thinking of the recent attack, but was resolved to blame himself no longer. He was, however, very mindful of how much danger his friends were in just by their association with him. 

Mercifully, Ron brought him back from this depressing vein he'd wandered into. "We've got Divination first thing this morning." He said this as if the end of the world was coming and he couldn't think of one single solution to this problem. He added as an amusing afterthought, "I wonder how you'll meet your end today, Harry."

Harry gave a snort of laughter in spite of himself. It had become a sort of running gag between the two of them—Trelawny and her bogus predictions. 

"Honestly, you two. I don't see why you are wasting your time with all of that nonsense. You could take Arithmancy instead," Hermione suggested in all seriousness. 

            Ron scoffed and answered in a slightly annoyed tone, "Arithmancy is as equally stupid with twice the work involved. In Divination we can get away with rubbish for homework. Why would we want to switch out of it?" 

Hermione set down her fork and stared unflinchingly at Ron. "Arithmancy is factual and dead useful," she raised her voice half an octave, watching Ron as he rolled his eyes and made a face, "it _is useful, Ron. None of that tea leaves trollop that Trelawny passes off as some sort of rare gift." She seemed to have reached her point and so fizzled out, anticlimactically, taking a book from her bag and burying herself in it to avoid further ridicule from Ron. _

Ron on the other hand, seemed triumphant in his small victory over Hermione and smiled. "I put my name down for Gryffindor Chess Champion after dinner last night," he informed Harry cheerfully. "Dumbledore picks the champions tomorrow after dinner."

"That's great, Ron!" Harry said, his eyes lighting up in excitement for his friend. 

"You're sure to be picked," Hermione added confidently. Ron smiled brightly in her direction as she disappeared behind her book again. 

Harry marveled at the seemingly effortless way the two of them fell in and out of rows. Not two seconds before this they were scowling at each other over something as trivial as telling the future through crystal balls or calculations, both of which Harry was skeptical of. It was exhausting listening to them, Harry thought, how could they keep it all up, and keep it all straight, for that matter. 

As Harry returned his attention to Ron, who had been jabbering on about Wizard's Chess, he noticed that Hermione had set her book aside and was scanning the Gryffindor Table curiously. She broke into Ron's soliloquy on the importance of the Bishop with, "Ron, where's Ginny? She didn't show up for dinner last night, either."

Harry looked up and down the table at all of the other Gryffindors as well and saw only Ron's red head and Fred's a few spaces down. 

Ron shrugged carelessly, "Dunno, haven't seen her," he thought for a moment and added, "I talked to her on Sunday, though."

"I'm worried about her," Hermione quipped gravely as Ron gulped his pumpkin juice and seemed not to hear her, "she's been missing quite a few meals and she's been looking off-color lately." Ron, predictably, made no reply. 

***

After Divination, Harry and Ron hurried from the North Tower to the third floor Charms Classroom. As it was nearly on the other end of the castle, they walked brusquely through the halls dodging a troop of chattering second years.       

"I can't believe she predicted that I'd be thrown from a horse next month and break my neck," Harry laughed as he and Ron rounded a corner bringing them to the corridor down which, their next class was due to start in less than two minutes. 

"She's really scraping the bottom of the barrel now. She used to have a little more imagination, what happened to her?" Ron said, amused at Professor Trelawny's latest prediction of Harry's doom. 

Harry shrugged as the two of them entered the Charms class and took their seats next to Hermione, "Where am I supposed to get a horse from? The only horse I've ever seen up close is aunt Petunia." 

Ron snorted his laughter into his opened textbook, trying to muffle the sound as Professor Flitwick began instructing his class on various color changing charms. Hermione quelled Ron with a stern look. 

Harry found himself struggling to pay attention. The first few weeks of Charms class were always dreadfully dull. Professor Flitwick would use this time for an overview of the various Charms they were to be studying for the entire year. The fun part would come in the next week or so when they were actually allowed to practice these Texture Changing and Temporary Invisibility Charms on each other. 

About ten minutes till the end of their Charms lesson, Harry, Ron and Hermione gave a collective jump of surprise as the doors at the back of the classroom burst open. Ginny rushed through them distractedly and toward the tiny Professor who had been knocked off of his platform of books in surprise. She absently helped the wizard to his feet and began conversing with him in hushed tones. 

"Class is just about finished up, Miss Weasley. If you'll please wait in my office, I will be able to assist you shortly," Harry barely heard Professor Flitwick mutter this small reply as Ginny thanked him and rushed through another set of doors off to one side of the room. 

Ron and Harry exchanged baffled looks as Hermione expressed their bewilderment with, "What in God's name do you suppose that was all about?" 

Hermione had been right, Harry thought, to be concerned about Ginny that morning at breakfast. She was acting stranger than usual. 

Professor Flitwick dismissed class moments later and the three of them filed out into the hallway. 

"I've got enough homework here to last me a lifetime," Ron admitted with a sigh, "Shall we go to the library, then?"

Harry and Hermione nodded and the three of them retreated to the quiet study environment under Madame Pince's ever-watchful eye until dinnertime.

***

"Ron, stop it, will you? You're making _me nervous," Hermione implored as she watched him play absently with his quill. All through class the next day Ron had taken to constant fidgeting and making distracted and non-committal noises whenever spoken to. _

"Hmm?" Ron dropped the quill and looked to Hermione to repeat what she had said, obviously not catching it the first go 'round. Hermione just shook her head and gave an exasperated squeak. Ron returned to his quill.

Ron hadn't uttered one coherent sentence all day long, and the prospect of him doing so looked bleak. At least, Harry thought, one way or another, he would return to his normally talkative self after Dumbledore announced the champions tonight. Harry and Hermione were growing tired of his silent and distracted behavior.

Harry decided to try encouragement to bring him out of his stupor, "Really, Ron. You've got the best chance of being chosen for Gryffindor's champion. No one can beat you."

"Well, I can't stand this!" Hermione interrupted, ripping the battered quill from Ron's grasp, "Ron, you're driving me crazy."

"Huh?" Ron muttered in surprise. "Oh, sorry, Hermione. I'm just…"

"You'll do fine, Ron," Hermione said confidently, handing Ron's quill back to him gently. 

"Well," Harry said, looking the part of a nervous best friend for Ron's benefit, "Its nearly time, shall we go then." He glanced at Hermione's watch as he said this and she checked it as well. 

Ron seemed to go a slight shade of green and then resignedly nodded in agreement. The three of them got up and went down to dinner. 

Harry and Hermione ate quietly while exchanging exasperated glances at each other as they watched Ron move his food around on his plate. 

"What's the matter Ron? Not hungry?" Ginny asked as she entered the Great Hall later than the rest of the students and sat down to eat hurriedly before the food disappeared. Ron didn't even acknowledge her. "Are you all right? You don't look well at all," concern played on her face as she stared fixedly at her brother. She looked to Harry and Hermione when she got no answer. 

"Dumbledore announces the champions tonight," was Hermione's simple explanation.

"What about you?" Harry asked Ginny turning the conversation from the despondent Ron, "You don't look so well yourself."

Ginny countered his curiosity expertly with, "Oh, well thank you Harry. What a kind thing to say."

"You know what I mean, Ginny," Harry replied, unphased by her sarcasm. 

Ginny shrugged simply and made her excuse, "Oh, its nothing to worry about. Not enough sleep is all. I help out in the hospital wing after classes and I've had a lot of homework on top of that. I'm fine really." She turned to her food to eat quickly. 

Harry contemplated asking her about the scene in Flitwick's class earlier, but decided he might have a better chance at getting a straight answer from her if he got her on her own. Besides, Dumbledore chose that moment to stand and call for quiet. 

As he did this, the food cleared automatically from the plates. Ginny made a slight noise of protest and then explained that she hadn't even touched her potatoes yet. 

The students around the four house tables looked up at the wise, graying wizard expectantly. 

"Here goes," Ron muttered under his breath. 

"After careful consideration and assessment of the many talented students who wish to become one of the four contenders for the Wizard's Chess Cup and One-hundred house points, I have chosen four worthy Champions to represent each house in this formidable competition."

Dumbledore paused for effect. This was worse, Harry thought, than waiting for the Goblet of Fire to return the three Tri-Wizard Champions' names. 

"The opening competition for this prestigious honor will take place on the night of Halloween following the usual feast." Dumbledore cleared his throat as if to say, "enough with preliminaries, on with the important bit." 

There was no movement in the entire hall. The students were as rigid as statues with anticipation.

"Come on already," Ron seethed in silent impatience. 

"And now… the champions," the headmaster smiled with a twinkle in his eyes. "When your name is called, please stand and be recognized by your fellow students and your housemates whom you are to represent.

'For Hufflepuff House," he drew out a pause before announcing, " Mr. Justin Finch-Fletchley, fifth year. Please stand."

Justin reluctantly stood, a look of complete astonishment apparent on his paling face.  

"Champion for Slytherin House," Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Draco Malfoy, fifth year." 

Draco, Harry could see, didn't need to be asked to stand. He stood gracefully at the Slytherin's table. No astonishment touched his features in the slightest. He might as well have been informed that he had just received full marks on an assignment for Snape, for all the surprise that didn't show on his face. The Slytherin table went wild with applause as the other three tables stayed politely silent. Draco took his seat with the same indifferent air in which he'd stood and Dumbledore continued. 

"Ravenclaw House Champion, fifth year, Ms. Padma Patil."

Padma stood to the applause of her house and her sister at the Gryffindor table. Parvati stood from her chair and cheered loudly next to an agitated George who yanked the screaming girl roughly, back into her seat. 

"Need I remind you that you are in Gryffindor House?" he furrowed his brow at her as she scoffed and flipped he hair superiorly, sticking her nose in the air. 

Dumbledore found this scene quite amusing, for it took him several seconds to compose himself and continue. 

"And, lastly. For Gryffindor House, fifth year…" 

Ron moved uncomfortably in his chair. Harry new that if there was one thing that he wanted more than a place on the House Quidditch Team it was to kick Malfoy's ass at chess in front of the whole school. 

Harry felt his stomach tighten into empathetic knots for his friend. 

"Mr. Ronald Weasley," Dumbledore announced with a grin. 

Wild cheering and applause erupted over the Gryffindor table as Ron stood shakily from his seat. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws politely joined in as the Slytherins refrained from the celebration and resorted to glaring. 

"See, Ron. We all knew you would be chosen," Ginny said excitedly as the applause died down enough for her to be heard from across the table. 

Ron only smiled weakly in his sister's direction, looking every bit as shell-shocked as he felt. 

Dumbledore raised a hand to call for quiet again. "The first match takes place in two weeks. Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor, Slytherin versus Ravenclaw."

The students were dismissed and filed out into the corridors. 

"Two weeks," Ron repeated darkly as he walked to the portrait of the Fat Lady with Harry, Hermione and Ginny. 

"You'll do fine," Harry assured him, "You're playing Justin."

"You're unbeatable," Hermione added, eliciting a smile from Ron. 

The four of them entered the common room.

"Still," Ron said, unconvinced by the praise of his friends, no matter how well meaning, "I need all the practice I can get," he admitted claiming a seat by the blazing fire, "Want to have a go, Ginny? You always give a good fight before you go down."

Ginny complied good-naturedly, as she always had with Ron, and took a seat across the board from him. 

Hermione came to sit next to Ginny with her large pile of OWL's study materials on her lap. 

Harry, although he wanted to watch Ron and Ginny's game, decided that he should write Sirius as he had planned to keep him updated on a regular basis. Besides, Sirius would probably like to hear about the chess tournament and Ron being named Gryffindor's champion. Harry thought with great relief that this letter to his godfather would only have to relate pleasant circumstances. He smiled at the thought. 

***

Hours after Harry had finished his letter and crawled into bed, he was awakened by the same image of Peter mercilessly strangling a man with his horrible hand that gave an eerie metallic glint from some unknown light source. The other man in his dream was still, stubbornly indistinguishable. 

Harry sat up, quickly clapping a hand over his throbbing forehead. His eyes were shut tight and he held his breath until the pain had dulled and then died completely. 

He took a few calming breaths and then reached for his glasses, noting the time on his alarm clock as he did so. It was nearly four in the morning. Harry sighed as he threw off his covers. He leapt up and surveyed his scar in the mirror, which was thankfully asleep and therefore had no insults to sling at Harry.

 Taking the letter from his desk, he sat down and unfolded it. His simple report to Sirius of the week's uneventful happenings, he thought. He would have to tell Sirius, he was instructed to do so, and it was the right thing to do. With a resigned sigh, Harry reached for a quill and amended his letter. He wrote his assurances that he would see Dumbledore first thing, sealed the envelope and threw on his robe over his pajamas. Grabbing the book Hermione had given him for his birthday, he trudged, yawning down the stairs and into the common room. 

He was stunned, upon entering the room, to find it occupied this early in the morning. 

In the cozy chair nearest the fire, Ginny was curled up in a white dressing gown with her toes peaking out slightly from the hem. She was staring at him from over the brim of her book. 

"Having trouble sleeping?" she asked with a sympathetic smile. Harry took the seat opposite hers. 

"Bad dream," he admitted and then felt stupid, like a five year old. He opened the book on his lap. "You?" he added, filling an awkward silence. 

"Same," she nodded, making him feel slightly better by appearing to be in the same boat. "It's always the same dream though, so I'm getting a little more used to it," she elaborated this much and then stopped. Harry had to fight the impertinent impulse to inquire further, but had a feeling he knew what sort of nightmares Ginny Weasley might have. He shuddered at what it might feel like to dream of the dark and dank chamber deep under the school, Slytherin's secret lair, and Tom Riddle. He felt a wave of sympathy for the small creature that sat opposite him, diverting her eyes to the fire so she didn't have to hold his gaze. He sensed that his looking at her made her uncomfortable somehow and quickly turned his attention to the large book he'd brought down with him. 

She tucked her feet in under her and gave a small smile as she met his eyes again. He thought he might scare her away, she was acting extremely timid, but he had to know one thing. 

"Er, Ginny," he said and she looked up from her book expectantly at him. "Why did you rush into Professor Flitwick's classroom the other day?"

"Oh," she gasped in surprise. Her voice betrayed her, "I didn't realize that was your class in there," she stammered, "I didn't see you in there."

"Ron, Hermione and I sit toward the back," he explained evenly. He could tell there was something that she didn't want him to know about her interruption into their Charms Class the other day. He stared at her intently as she squirmed in her chair. He wondered what caused such alarm in her. 

"It was nothing," she fidgeted nervously and headed for the staircase to the girls' dorms and stopped briefly on the landing and whispered a barely audible, "Goodnight, Harry," before retreating to her room. 

Harry sat there trying to think of a reasonable explanation to her erratic behavior. He knew that she would be less than forthcoming to his questions. She was the sort of person who kept to herself, usually. This he knew, but it didn't account for her running off at the first harmless question he'd asked. What was she hiding?

Saturday morning came and went while Harry caught up on his lost sleep. After lunch he went, as promised, to speak with Dumbledore. 

In front of the stony-faced gargoyle he met with Professor McGonagall who informed him that Professor Dumbledore was visiting the ministry on business. 

After assuring the Deputy Headmistress that everything was fine and his business with the Headmaster was not urgent, Harry went to the Owlery to send Sirius' letter off to the continent.

***

Harry was surprised to discover, one day as he walked to his usual table in the library, that October was nearly over. With all of the added homework that had been piled onto the fifth years (double the amount for Defense Against the Dark Arts), on top of Quidditch practice nearly every afternoon, no matter the conditions of the weather (usually bleak this late in the year). Hermione had also added a rigorous study schedule for the upcoming and ever-present OWL's, to which Neville had also joined with Hermione's encouragement. When Harry was not on the field or in the classroom, he was in the library, a place he was growing to hate more and more each day. 

            On the day that the Gryffindor House Team was to play Ravenclaw, Harry awoke to find the unpleasant flutter of nervousness had returned to his stomach, as it had before every game. However familiar the feeling was, it was equally unwelcome. 

            He dashed downstairs, after distractedly dressing, to find a nearly full Gryffindor table. Students were chatting noisily, eating breakfast and talking of the game while a squinty, bespectacled Ravenclaw bookie ran numbers as students from all houses placed bets on the two teams. 

            Harry took a seat that Ron had saved for him and stared at his empty plate. 

            "Honestly, Harry-," Hermione began her usual run of entreaties for Harry to eat before the game. They never worked. 

            "Not hungry," Harry said, cutting her off in the fashion of a person who knew what was coming before it was even said.

            "You always say that, Hermione and it never works. Just leave him alone. He's not going to waste away," Ron inserted, eliciting a venomous look from her.  

***

            It was a sunny, cool day, like it hadn't been all week. 

            "Perfect for the first Quidditch game of the season," Harry mused as he walked out onto the pitch, accompanied by his teammates. 

            "Nervous, Dean?" Harry heard Angelina question a stunned looking Dean, who was clutching his broom with a vice grip. 

            "Can you tell?" Dean answered looking rather sheepish that Angelina had noticed his anxiety. 

            "Just do what you did at the tryouts, Dean," George said, trying to make their newest member more at ease. 

            "Yeah, if you can whomp our Chasers, then Ravenclaw will be a cinch," Fred added, managing also to duck a swat to the head from an aggravated Angelina. 

            "Hey, that was a compliment," Fred retorted, feigning hurt for Angelina's benefit. 

            "You'll do just fine, Dean," Angelina reassured him as they met the Ravenclaw team and Madame Hooch in the middle of the pitch. 

            Lee Jordan had just finished listing the names and positions of the Ravenclaw team, followed by Gryffindor. He was now receiving stern looks from Professor McGonagall for his commentary on the Gryffindor Chasers. "Well, they are the best looking Chasers in the school," Lee defended himself. 

            "I don't want to have to remind you again to be objective, Mr. Jordan," Harry could hear Professor McGonagall threaten Lee somewhere in the stands of people. 

            "Shake hands," Madame Hooch commanded the two captains, as Angelina moved forward and gripped the hand of Roger Davies who glared competitively. Angelina merely smiled sweetly. 

            "I want a clean game. Mount your brooms…" And with a report from her whistle the two teams kicked off and the game began. 

            Harry immediately climbed high and surveyed the field. Terry Boot, Cho's replacement for Seeker, did the same. 

            The Quaffle was caught by Angelina, who tossed it in Katie's direction. She swerved a Bludger expertly. But, before Katie could get to it, the Quaffle was intercepted by a fast and agile Ravenclaw Chaser. 

            The Quaffle and the Chaser sped downfield and toward Dean. 

            Harry paused in his search for the Snitch to watch Dean's first performance. Dean easily knocked the ball out of the scoring area, putting his teammates at ease. Harry resumed his search. 

It wasn't long before he heard the familiar whistle of an approaching Bludger.

"A spiffing save, that was! If he keeps it up, we have nothing to worry about," Fred commented as he skillfully sent the attacking Bludger in the other direction. 

Angelina and Katie easily scored twenty points for the Gryffindor Team. 

A dark haired and stocky Ravenclaw had retrieved the Quaffle and slipped past Angelina and Katie. Katie sped toward the hoops. Alicia had rounded the field and attempted to relieve the opposing Chaser of his burden. 

The three Chasers scored another thirty points to Ravenclaw's ten in the small amount of time that it took Harry to locate the pernicious Snitch. 

Harry glanced over at Terry Boot and noted quickly that the green Seeker had not seen what he had. 

He streaked away with amazing speed, keeping the Snitch in his sight. Terry finally caught on and began to tail Harry. Harry looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Terry right on his heels. 

As he neared the Snitch, it shot wildly upward. Harry followed it as Terry pursued him. With his eyes fixed on the Snitch, Harry was not aware that it had led him into the path of a fast-moving Bludger. 

Harry reached for the Snitch. 

As he felt his hand close around the walnut-sized ball, the Bludger hit its mark. It slammed into Harry's right side. The force tore his broom from his grasp and he wavered, fighting to keep his balance. 

He returned his hands to his broom, steadying himself. Gripping the broom, he winced. He was almost sure that his arm was seriously damaged, it was throbbing and his fingertips were becoming numb and icy. 

To his surprise the force of the Bludger had not caused him to lose his grip on the cold-metallic ball that was still wrapped in his fingers. He'd caught it. He'd caught the Snitch. They'd won the game. 

As Lee was announcing this and giving the final score of 220 to 10, Harry descended. 

Angelina went to the far end to congratulate Dean on his first win and on a game well played.

Fred and George ran over to Harry. "Sorry about that Bludger, Harry." George apologized guiltily, "If you hadn't pulled up so fast, it would have hit its intended target." He glanced over Harry's shoulder, indicating a rather disappointed Ravenclaw Seeker, Terry Boot. 

"Yeah, that little git was right on your tail. We were going to take him out, but you're just too good of a flyer, Potter," Fred teased and slapped Harry on the back. 

This well meant but excruciating gesture reminded Harry of his possibly serious injury and he quickly congratulated his teammates and headed in the direction of the castle and the infirmary. 

"We promise not to start the celebration until you get back," George called after him. Harry waved and trotted up the stone entrance steps, cradling his throbbing arm. He could hardly move his shoulder, it must be broken, he guessed. 

"Harry," he heard a small voice call after him, "are you alright?"

Harry slowed his pace and turned, already knowing whom his pursuer was. 

Ginny hadn't spoken to Harry since the night he'd inquired after her odd behavior. Harry smiled as he noted the change in her countenance. 

Her face was pale with worry. As she neared, she slowed to a stop, catching her breath.

"It got me pretty good," Harry explained, "but I'm alright, I guess. I mean; I still have all of my bones, haven't I? Even if they are broken." Ginny smiled at the reference to the ridiculous and incompetent Lockhart and Harry chuckled, but quickly stopped as it made the pain all the more acute. 

"Let me have a look at it," Ginny insisted in a motherly tone that brooked no refusal.  She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and assessed that damage as gently as possible. 

"It's not broken," she determined, "But you ought to let Madame Pomfrey look at it." Harry nodded and turned to go, Ginny following closely behind him.


	8. Weasley Versus Finch-Fletchley

Disclaimer: I only own the plot. Characters and places of the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. 

Author's Note: Like I said at the beginning of the last chapter: No Harry/Ginny shipping is intended for this story. If you are averse to those typical Harry/Ginny stories, rest assured their interaction, conversations, etc. is only plot device for this story and its sequel. If you were hoping for them to end up together, I'm sorry to inform you that it will not be so. But please read on. It's a good story anyway. 

Chapter Eight

Weasley versus Finch-Fletchly

"You know the Queen of Hearts is always your best bet…" 

            Harry settled himself on the foot of an empty hospital bed as Ginny raced off to Madame Pomfrey's office to fetch her. He unfastened his Quidditch robes and pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt. 

            He let out and agitated breath as he examined the injury. His right shoulder was already beginning to change from red to the livid purple of a fresh bruise. 

            The short, elderly witch that Ginny had gone to find, appeared around the corner, followed closely by her small, redheaded assistant. Ginny wore a set, all business-like expression. Harry could tell she enjoyed this sort of work, although he couldn't guess why in the world anyone would. 

            "I should have guessed it would be you," was Madame Pomfrey's greeting upon seeing him. "Hmph! Dislocated," she determined, prodding his shoulder with none of the gentleness Ginny had showed. "Well, dear," her expression darkened, "it would be easier to fix if it were broken."

            These words were not meant to be reassuring and, indeed, Harry hadn't felt that they were at all. He'd had a lot of injuries, Quidditch related and not. But he wasn't particularly looking forward to the pain that followed. 

            "This will hurt for just a second, dear," the elderly nurse reassured him after the fact. She lied. It hurt as she mouthed the incantation that set the bones into their original places. It hurt as she walked away to retrieve something else from her office and it hurt as she returned moments later with an awful concoction that she insisted Harry drink down right away. It tasted like tar.

            Madame Pomfrey gave a few short instructions and then bustled off to another task. 

            Ginny came around to the side of the bed and smiled at him. She couldn't help it. He was being childish, really—it hadn't hurt that much. 

            "What are you so amused about?" Harry asked as he closed his eyes to the pain that seemed to be deadening slightly. 

            "You're acting like a baby," she laughed as she gingerly placed the tip of her wand to the awful bruise that covered his shoulder. 

            "What are you doing," Harry asked curiously, more to serve as a change of subject. She was really the only person that he couldn't stand to have mocking him. 

            "It will keep the swelling down and we'll have to do something about that bruise," she answered with the sweetest bedside manner. Harry amused himself with thinking that she was putting it all on for his sake. 

            "There's nothing I can do about the stiffness though. You'll just have to deal with it, I'm afraid," she continued and pulled Harry's sleeve gently over the injured shoulder. 

            Her fingers lingered on his arm causing Harry's stomach to flip uncomfortably. She slid her hand lightly across the crook of his arm where a scar was visible there. "What happened here?" she asked curiously. 

            "Oh," Harry said, pulling his arm from Ginny's grip and covering the scar with his left hand, "that's, it's just," he stammered, not wanting to lie to her and definitely not wanting to scare her away with the truth. 

            "What is it Harry, what's the matter," she asked meeting his eyes with a worried glance, "Was it something I said?" She placed her hands self-consciously in the pockets of her black school robes. 

            Resigned to tell her the truth, trusting her to be able to handle it, he spoke reluctantly, "at the end of last year," he began, "Voldemort," she flinched only slightly at the name. 

            "I'm sorry, Harry," she said cutting off further explanation. No more was needed Harry guessed. "I didn't mean to bring it up, I didn't know." She eyed the ground guiltily. 

            "You have nothing to be sorry for, Ginny," Harry assured her. 

            "I have a lot to be sorry for," Ginny muttered under her breath, not meaning to be heard but Harry caught every curious word. 

            "What do you mean?" He questioned. 

            Ginny's head shot up quickly, revealing a startled expression that alarmed Harry. 

            "Oh, nothing," she added quickly dodging more questions. "You'd better get up to the Tower, the whole house will be expecting their hero to show up for his own party."

            "Oh, right," Harry blushed, despite himself, at the flattery. 

            Ginny seemed to calm with the change of subject and smiled at him as she helped him back into his Quidditch robes and congratulated him on an excellent game. 

            "You coming?" Harry asked as an afterthought as he reached the doors. 

            "No," was Ginny's immediate answer, "I think I'll stay around here and be useful."

            Harry left for the Gryffindor common room. 

***

            As the trend developed again, Ginny had made herself scarce around Ron, Hermione and Harry. Where she went to during mealtimes and various other free hours during the day, Harry couldn't even venture a guess. 

            At breakfast on the morning of Halloween and the day of the first chess match, Harry scanned the table, as had been his custom in the week since he'd last talked to her. He couldn't seem to get her strange words and behavior out of his head and determined that she was up to something. The problem was that when Ginny had a secret, she hid it better than anyone Harry had ever met before. Talking to her was a dead end. She would only run away. Harry decided to leave it alone. Despite his curiosity he felt that if she wanted to tell him, it would have to come in her own time. The last thing he wanted was to push her away. 

            His reverie was broken up when Ron, seated next to him at the table, spoke, "What are you reading, Hermione?" 

            As their bushy-haired friend ambled into the Great Hall, distractedly reading the morning's copy of the Daily Prophet, she jumped at the voice and the question. 

            "Nothing," she answered, immediately concealing the paper in her school bag. She took a seat across from Harry and Ron, both of whom were staring at her ashen face with concern and curiosity. 

            "Not another attack," Ron asked in a resigned tone of voice. Tales of mysterious and often very destructive attacks on homes, stores and other public buildings (muggle as well as not) had littered the paper on a seemingly regular basis since that of the Beckett fire. Harry had felt a stab of guilt at every new story and so, had not picked up the Prophet for nearly two weeks. It was always a constant reminder that danger hung heavy in the air (especially around him). 

            Hermione shook her head in reassurance, no attacks. That seemed to placate Ron and he looked to be no more interested in it. 

            "Argh, Seamus!" Dean yelled as he wiped pumpkin juice from his face. 

            "It almost worked this time," Seamus said staring into his steaming goblet. 

            "Give it a rest will you," commanded Dean in an agitated tone. "You're never going to turn that juice into rum. Just spike it, mate, and save us the mess!"

            Ron used this distraction to move around to Hermione's left side where he expertly removed the folded Daily Prophet and flipped it open to the front page. Hermione hadn't noticed. Whatever Ron had found upon reading the article that she was trying to conceal, he hadn't expected it. His face displayed a clear expression of shock. 

            "Engaged?" he breathed, causing Hermione to jump. 

            "Ron, don't!" she shouted, causing half the table to stop mid-movement and stare. Harry watched the entire exchange with bewilderment. "How could you?" Hermione appeared horrified and looked around blankly at the curious eyes of dozens of students who stared between her and Ron, awaiting an explanation. They got none. 

            Hermione, grabbing her bag and the paper from Ron's clutches, stalked out of the hall. Ron followed shortly after her but turned in the opposite direction she'd taken at the entrance hall. 

            Automatically all eyes turned to Harry who shrank under the curious stares. He'd no idea what just transpired there in front of half the school but was left with the feeling that he was in for an earful from both sides by the end of the day. 

            But as the day progressed Ron and Hermione did not speak to each other and, oddly enough, barely spoke to Harry. Harry would have expected this behavior from Ron without the scene in the Great Hall at breakfast. He was due to play Justin at chess tonight. Whatever it was that he'd said or done to Hermione, it served as a distraction from the events that would take place after the traditional feast that evening. 

***

            "Aren't you going to eat, Ron?" Ginny implored innocently, looking from her brother to Harry for assistance in the matter. As Ginny scanned the table she added, "Where's Hermione? She's going to miss the match." She was silenced from further observation when Harry shook his head, silently signaling to her that that avenue should remain uncanvassed for the moment. Ron pushed his plate away and sat staring at the table. 

            Hermione did not show during the course of the feast. Ginny kept stealing glances at her silent and brooding brother, convinced that if she just stared long enough he would give up and spill the entire story. He always had with her. He kept nothing from his little sister. If he'd tried, she could always winkle it out of him. 

            The champions were called up to the front of the hall as the feast commenced. Ron stood up unceremoniously and took his place across from Justin Finch-Fletchley at one of the two ornate chess tables there. Padma Patil and Draco Malfoy seated themselves at the other table. 

            Harry still hadn't any idea what had happened that morning at breakfast and why his two best friends were no longer speaking to each other. The situation grew more serious as Hermione was not present for an event that was very important to Ron. 

Ron would not speak to anyone, Harry included. 

            Harry made a desperate pitch around the hall, scanning the room for his bushy-haired friend who, fight or no fight, should be there for Ron. He looked to the doors at the back of the room in time to catch Hermione slipping in undetected by the other students. She moved to a remote corner where she stood to watch the events that transpired at the front with and expressionless face. Even when her eyes met Harry's momentarily, she did not smile or acknowledge him in any other way. 

            He contemplated getting up and joining her if she would not come and sit down. He discarded the idea and replaced it with the realization that she didn't want the attention that he would surely draw to her by coming over. She wanted to watch the match but remain undetected at the same time, leaving an easy out when all was over. 

            Indeed, Harry's last thought was confirmed at the end of the match at Ron and Justin's table shortly after Draco had announced his checkmate over Padma, Ron had done the same to Justin. The first round of the tournament was over, proclaiming Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley as the victors. 

            Harry watched as Hermione exited the hall as quietly as she had come. 

            Ron came over to where Harry, Ginny and Neville stood as the students began to clear out of the hall and retreat to their respective common rooms. Harry and Neville congratulated him on a game well played and he received it with an expressionless thanks. Ginny placed a kiss on his cheek and then, grabbing his arm, led him sternly out of the Great Hall and out into the night air that was already beginning to take on the cold chill of late autumn. 

            Harry was grateful to Ginny for cutting to the chase. He knew without a doubt that she would be able to get to the bottom of whatever it was that had caused the rift between him and Hermione. Harry and Neville climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower to work on an essay for Divination.  

***

            "Well," Harry asked expectantly as he approached Ginny seated at a far corner table in the library. She looked up from her Charms textbook, wholly unsurprised to see him there.   

            "Well, what?" she asked, knowing perfectly well what. 

            Harry sat across from her and stared at her as if to intimidate her into betraying her confidence to her brother. She and Ron had spent nearly three hours out on the Quidditch pitch talking the night before and Harry was curious to know about what. His situation with his two friends had not improved in the slightest and he was growing tired of the silence. He hated being out of the loop, especially where his friends were concerned. 

            Ginny stared back formidably, all seriousness. "I'm not telling you anything," she added returning her eyes to the open book in front of her. She slid a two-day old copy of the Daily Prophet across the table to Harry. It was the copy that Ron had taken from Hermione. Harry had not expected the headline that he met with upon opening it to the front page.

"Champions of Last Year's Tri-Wizard Tournament Engaged." This was punctuated with a picture of Viktor Krum stupidly glowering up at him, arms wrapped around the elegant Fleur Delacour. 

            "So that's what had Hermione so upset," Harry breathed, more to himself than anything else. Ginny looked up from her book. 

            "Yes, and my dear brother, lacking all subtlety announced it to nearly half the school." Ginny commented, surprising Harry. She diffused her voice with a monotone of disappointment that Harry had not picked up on the significance of it all. 

            "You don't think that's the reason that she won't talk to Ron, do you?" Harry asked in typical male fashion, looking over what was blatantly obvious to Ginny. 

            "I'm guessing that she is upset with Ron for once again being an unfeeling prat. He's always on her case about something or other, never really seeing her as anything more than someone to best all the time." Harry listened interestedly. Ginny continued. "You can't have been so blind as to not notice that Hermione is in love with my brother," Ginny asked quietly as Madame Pince passed by that area of the library.

            "I knew that he liked her and was jealous of Krum," Harry shrugged, feeling stupider by the minute. "How do you know all of this?" Harry added.

            "I watch people," Ginny replied simply and continued, "Hermione is in love with Ron. She gave up Viktor Krum for him. She knew that Ron had a problem with him so she got rid of him." She took a breath, allowing it all to sink in for Harry. It really was exhausting trying to convince someone this naïve, she thought. Ron and Harry were very much alike sometimes. 

            "Okay, so, Hermione is frustrated with Ron who doesn't acknowledge all that she's given up for him, and Ron…" Harry trailed off, hoping that Ginny would fill in the rest for him. She picked up the baton and ran with it. 

            "Ron is convinced that she still has feelings for Viktor Krum," she replied simply, shrugging her shoulders. 

            "Did you tell him that's not true," Harry asked hopefully. 

            "Not my place, really," she said looking every bit as downtrodden as Hermione had looked lately. "The only way that this will clear up is if they talk to each other," she shrugged again and then added, "honestly."

            Harry knew why she had added this last bit. Ron would try his hardest to dodge any situation that required him be honest about his feelings, Harry could sympathize. But, he thought, if anyone could get Ron to admit such an incriminating truth, it would be Hermione. 

            "Well," he said with a final shrug, "it's out of our hands. We'll just have to sit back and take the silent treatment until they both admit the truth."

            "Ron might be dumb enough to continue this way, but I'm betting Hermione makes the first move," Ginny said firmly. Harry wouldn't doubt it. Ginny had always proven to be an infallible judge of character. She tended to be right in situations like this. 

            Harry had no desire to go back to the common room where he was sure to meet with a sullen and quiet Ron and so opted to stay in the library to work in peace with Ginny. 

            A week and a half later her prediction in the matter of Ron and Hermione proved itself right. 

***

            "Ron, I need to talk to you," Hermione said one day as Harry and Ron were walking down the corridor heading to their Defense Against the Dark Arts Class. She took hold of his arm and dragged him in the opposite direction leaving Harry alone in the hallway. 

            Throughout the remainder of the day Harry could barely concentrate. His two friends had not shown up to the last classes of the day or lunch. It had been a few hours since Hermione had pulled Ron down the hall and up to Gryffindor Tower. 

            Ginny had shown up for lunch, contrary to her usual custom of skipping meals, and was greeted upon her entry with the news of it all. 

            Harry seemed worried at the length of their disappearance but Ginny remained unconcerned and insisted that they would be back to their normal selves after all was said and done. 

            It was precisely as she said. 

            That night in the common room Harry was met with the oddest sight. 

            Ron and Hermione sat beside the fire playing chess. Hermione, to Harry's knowledge, had never taken up the game. She was eagerly nodding as Ron explained the fundamentals of the game to her. Harry had the strange feeling that he'd wandered into the twilight zone. They both looked up and cheerily greeted him as he sat down next to Ron to watch the curious exchange. They appeared at ease with each other like they hadn't in a long time. They didn't even seem to acknowledge the fact that they hadn't spoken to each other two weeks previously. 

            Harry wouldn't complain though. If they wanted to live in this strangely serene alternate universe that they'd wandered into, he wouldn't mind, just so long as he had his two friends back. 

***

            Nearing the end of November, the first snow had transformed the castle and grounds into an enchanting silver and glittering orb. The school seemed to be deserted from the inside as the students took to spending their free time out of doors. 

            On closer inspection, Ron and Hermione's amended friendship began to take on the form of a serious relationship, although neither of them had said so much to Harry. 

            Harry's busy schedule of classes, Quidditch practice and studying hadn't allowed him much time to observe the two of them together, but when he had a chance to do so he was pleased to find them exceedingly happy in each other's presence. They spent a lot of their time together out on the grounds in such beautiful early winter scenery. 

            Classes had begun to improve as well. Professor Snape had entered into another long spell of absences. Professor Sprout had taken up his place in teaching, as she was the next most knowledgeable person in the area of potions, having to provide most ingredients for potion making in her field of expertise, Herbology. 

            As far as the Chess Tournament was coming, Draco and Ron were leading over Justin and Padma. The matches that were played next week were to determine the final two competitors for the Wizards Chess Cup that would take place on the evening of December the Twenty-fifth. Ron was due to play Padma and didn't seem too concerned about her at all. 

            The Great Hall was in a buzz of conversation on the second to the last Saturday morning of the month. Slytherin was to play Hufflepuff at Qudditch today. On any day that Slytherin participated in a competition, like Quidditch, they were particularly nasty. 

            The Hufflepuff House Team was finishing their breakfast amid glares and taunts from their opponents as Mr. Diggory, head of the school's new security outfit, entered the hall. The team got up collectively and shook hands with the weary looking man. It was a gesture that seemed to say, "no matter the outcome, we're playing this game as tribute to Cedric." The team, in their yellow and black, exited to the same glaring and quiet mockery of the Slytherin Team. 

            Harry looked over to see most of the team assembled at their table where Crabbe and Goyle were in the thick of things. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, but Harry was sure he would have been the ringleader of this disgusting display if he'd been present. 

            And then he saw her. 

            A small dark-haired girl, no more than Ginny's age was sitting a few spaces down from the offending party of Slytherins. What was curious about her, however, was her expression. She looked as if she was on the verge of tears as she stared intently at the table at the head of the hall where Mr. Diggory had just sat down next to Professor Sprout. He stared at his plate for a moment before standing up again and exiting the hall through a side door. 

            Harry and this Slytherin girl were the only two in the hall who saw the head of Hufflepuff House look after him brokenheartedly and discreetly dab her eyes with her napkin. Harry looked back at the girl who stood silently, tears in her eyes as well, and left the hall.

            He marveled at the oddity of a Slytherin who would be sympathetic to Hufflepuff House, still morning the loss of their hero. Cedric had meant more to Harry than he'd realized previously. He felt that if he could display one third of the courage and honor that Cedric lived everyday with, he would be very lucky indeed.  

            But this girl, slight, small, plain with chin length raven hair had shown the same sort of response that Harry would have thought a Slytherin incapable of. How was it that she had come to be sorted into the one place a person with that much pity and selflessness would not be welcomed?


	9. Praemedicatus Crepundia

Disclaimer: I only own Anni, the mysterious Slytherin girl and the plot. The rest belongs to Rowling.

**Thank You's**: My Lovely Reviewers. **Dark Mage**: *blushes profusely* thank you so much! That's quite a compliment. It's reviewers like you that keep me going! **Juke of Earl**: Maybe an original will come to mind one of these days. I'm afraid of original characters. However, thank you for the vote of confidence! **Linda**: Well, actually what's up with Ginny is the whole plot of 'It May Be Rainin's sequel. It's a pretty big deal, I assure you! **I'mpeckable**: Thanks for reviewing. Actually, boarding schools do exist for children that young. In fact, I thought that both of their personalities, however very different, suggested that they'd grown up in a private school. Not actually dire plot oversight, but thanks for keeping me on my toes all the same. **Vying Quill**: Thank you! That's so kind! Sirius is actually one of my most favorite literary characters. Wormtail/ Peter was actually snapping the photo as I see it, not intended to exclude him in any way. **Revere**: As always, you're too kind. **Jam**: Thank you for swooping down from on high to grace me with two reviews. I don't deserve your kind words. *blushes* **Sara**: You rock, as always! **L. Meylan**: There's plenty more to come, please stay tuned. **Nifflewhopper**: Yep, your story is pretty cool. Unorthodox to say the least. I love Ron too. Isn't he great? Glad to see my reviewers think I'm keeping up on character quality and integrity. 

Author's Note: This chapter is a big one, I know. A lot of information has to be communicated in its pages though, so bear with me.       I've been looking forward to writing this chapter in particular, among a few of the later ones. Please be kind and let me know how you all liked it. And now, on with the story.

Chapter Nine

Praemedicatus Crepundia

"But you only want the ones you can't get…" 

            Harry had been watching the Slytherin girl for nearly a week and had gained no more intelligence on her than he'd had when he'd first seen her. He decided not to ask around, opting to watch her quietly and arouse as little suspicion as possible. He didn't want her to be alienated by his prying, yet he had to know what her story was, where she'd come from, how she'd suddenly turned up there. Indeed, Harry determined that she must have transferred in, he was sure he'd never seen her around, prior to this year. 

            On closer inspection, she did seem younger than he first guessed, perhaps the year under Ginny. Harry felt oddly compelled by her mysterious air. He knew only her habits of outward appearance. She wore her hair pulled back neatly from her face in two informal silver clips (the style varied little from day to day). She wore an intricate bracelet on her left wrist that had some sort of charm fastened to it. He couldn't be sure. He'd never gotten a close enough look at the thing. 

             He was frustrated by the fact that more clues about the girl would not present themselves. For instance, he'd watched her stop in a corridor one day to talk briefly with Draco Malfoy, a formal sort of conversation about nothing particular. Harry kept hoping that during the course of the conversation, Malfoy would mention her name. He had not. Harry couldn't even be sure that he knew the girl's name. There was no indication on his face that would suggest familiarity. 

So he did not know her name. There were a lot of other things that could indicate the sort of person she was. And Harry found out that her spate of sympathy and tears in the Great Hall the week earlier was not just a spate, she was generous to the point of Hufflepuff tendencies and was never seen without a load of books in her arms, also suggesting that she could study a Ravenclaw into the ground. So, why Slytherin? Harry was intrigued by this question. He wanted to find out more. 

***

            The end of term was approaching, giving Harry little time to study the curious Slyhterin who'd captured his interest. He didn't know how to proceed with his investigation without asking someone about her. But who would know anymore about her than he did? He'd only seen her with Malfoy on rare occasions. All other times, the girl appeared to be a loner. He saw her in the library quite often, but didn't know how to approach her. 

            With the commencement of classes on the Thirty-first of November, came the second round of the Wizard's Chess Tournament. Ron was due to play Padma Patil and Justin Finch-Fletchly would be competing against Draco Malfoy. 

            Harry was looking forward to this competition, as Ron would enjoy it more now that he knew Hermione would be watching in the audience. He didn't seem to be the barrel of loose nerves that he had been the night Dumbledore announced the Champions nor was he the quiet stoic that he'd turned into as a result of his disagreement with Hermione. No, this time around Ron was completely confident and not nervous in the slightest. Padma would be a cinch to defeat, if Malfoy could have done it in less than twenty minutes. 

            As dinner ended and the Champions were called to the front game tables, Harry surveyed the Slytherin table (as was his custom lately) for the raven-haired girl. She was there, sitting next to Malfoy and to Harry's surprise wishing him good luck, which Malfoy seemed to receive with a smile—not a sneer—a smile.  

            Harry returned his attention to the front of the room where the four players were waiting expectantly. Harry wondered why the games had not started yet and was answered by the realization that Professor Dumbledore was not present, and then Professor McGonagall who entered the hall via a side entrance. She approached the tables that the Champions were seated at. Harry could not decipher her exact words, but caught the gist of it: Dumbledore wished to speak with Mr. Malfoy immediately. 

            Professor McGonagall looked to Professor Sprout as she exited with Malfoy. Professor Sprout took up the silent cue and instructed Justin Finch-Flectchly to resume his seat at the Hufflepuff table. His game with the Slytherin Champion would be rescheduled, he was told. Padma and Ron were instructed to begin their game. 

            As Harry listened to Ron and Padma call out their moves in turn, his eyes wandered back to the Slytherin table and the girl that was seated there, only to find that she had left the Great Hall. 

            Harry was so lost in thought that he never even heard Ron as he announced his checkmate over Padma, or the indignant shriek that Parvati elicited on her sister's behalf. He was wondering all the while why Dumbledore had interrupted the match to speak with Malfoy. Was he in trouble for something? Harry couldn't even venture a guess. Malfoy and his two thugs had kept clear of Harry and his friends for the most part. Indeed, he hadn't even shown up in their compartment on the train ride to school, as had been tradition since their first year. Maybe it was to do with his father. This was a far more curious avenue of thought. Harry's mind reeled with scenarios. 

***

            Harry had lost interest in the girl that had occupied his thoughts for weeks past. It was almost as if she had evaporated into thin air, or had Harry imagined her entirely? She was never in the library and she didn't show up to meals. Other than that, Harry wasn't sure where he could find her. It's just as well, he thought, she seemed like she wanted nothing better than to blend into the background and his attention to her would surely put and end to those plans. Harry left it at that. 

            "Get up, Harry!" came Ron's excited voice far too early one morning. "Harry! Neville! Get up, its Christmas," Ron exclaimed. 

            Harry reached for his glasses as Neville merely groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. Dean and Seamus were already up and tearing eagerly into packages.         

            "Merry Christmas!" Harry called to them. 

            Ron had already begun to decimate his own pile. 

            As Harry began to look through his own, he found a letter from Sirius. He opened this one last of all. It read:

Harry, 

 I hope my letter finds you well. I'm sorry I could not come in person to wish you a Merry Christmas and to give you this photograph that Remus and I found when we were going through some of my old things. I want you to have it. 

Harry noted the photo that was attached to the letter. It was a family portrait. His father and mother stood in the foreground, Harry in his mother's arms and a smiling Sirius standing on the other side of James. Harry had an album full of pictures of his parents and Sirius was even in some of them but this picture was special to him because they were all there, together. He stared at the four smiling faces for a long time, tuning out the sounds of his dorm mates tearing through their own packages. Then he placed the photo in with his collection of other sacred images of his lost family that Hagrid had given him before the end of his first year here. That seemed like a far off and distant memory. The letter continued briefly:

I know that you don't have any pictures of your family and this is the only one that I've been able to find. Remus was able to keep it for me while I was away. He's kept a few other things of mine as well that were, at one time dear to me. I know that this particular picture might be dear to you as well, so it's yours. I don't have long to write, I am finishing this off on a train in fact, but I didn't want you to go the entire holiday without hearing from me. Sadly, I have to ask you not to write back, we are all in a rather precarious situation here and it would not be safe for any of us to make contact with those of you back home. And it is especially dangerous for your owl. If anything comes up you know that you can always go to Dumbledore. I will do my best to contact you on as regular a basis as possible.

Merry Christmas, Harry

            Sirius. 

            After all presents were opened and both Ron and Harry donned new Weasley sweaters, Dean and Seamus followed them down the stairs and out of the castle with Ginny and Hermione to enjoy the snow that continued to fall in large crystalline flakes. 

Neville remained buried under his masses of blankets and pillows.

***

            Harry, Ron and Hermione sat warming by the heat of the blazing common room fire after an intense snowball fight that left them all freezing and soaked through. Ron was slightly apprehensive, Harry could tell, about tonight's final chess match between himself and Draco Malfoy. After Malfoy's match with Justin had been rescheduled, Ron and Harry were both astounded at how quickly and effortlessly Draco had checkmated him. 

            He wasn't taking his nervousness to the extreme like he had when Dumbledore announced the Champions back in October. Then, he was a basket case. The nervousness he showed this time was evident only on his face. 

            Hermione sat next to him on the sofa, arms wrapped adoringly around him, trying her hardest to placate him. He wasn't buying it. 

            Harry knew that Ron was unstoppable at chess—no matter how good Malfoy appeared to be or in what record time he'd beaten Justin. He wouldn't get past Ron—that was for certain. Ron was the one that needed convincing, however. But Harry was unable to convince him at that moment, he was distracted by the entrance of a pale and worn Neville followed by Ginny who wore a look of concern. 

            Harry needed no explanation as to the cause of this scene. He knew what it was all about. It was Christmas. Neville would have paid a visit to St. Mungo's today, and to his parents. 

            He watched distractedly as Ginny ushered Neville into a chair at the back of the common room and then sat beside him. They talked in hushed tones for a time. Harry guessed that Ginny was trying her hardest to make him feel better. That was what Ginny did, and she did it well. But Neville was a hard case and he didn't think Ginny would make much headway concerning him. He doubted if Ginny even knew the cause of his altered behavior. 

            But he knew. Harry was locked in a mental tug of war: should he talk to Neville, tell him he knew everything, or should he keep his nose out of it and continue to be a horrible friend. His feet seemed to have already made the decision for him. Before he'd even come to the right conclusion, he'd gotten up and moved over to where Neville was conversing in hushed tones with a sympathetic Ginny who sat patting his hand comfortingly. Neville stared off at the ground as he spoke giving him that look that people adopt after facing a shocking situation and haven't quite come to terms with it yet. 

Harry had felt that way at the end of last year. For a week or so, he was trapped in a fuzzy half-reality where nothing really seemed to focus and everything sounded and felt miles away. 

"May I join you?" Harry said as Ginny looked up at him. Neville seemed not to hear a thing. Ginny shook him from his alternate universe. He shrugged and Harry was admitted into their therapy session. Pulling up a seat hadn't nearly given him enough time to adjust his thoughts or determine what might be the appropriate way to begin with what he had to say. 

But in the end, the direct path is always easiest and most times the less painful route. Harry was blunt and honest with his friend. Ginny listened with quiet attention. Neville seemed more coherent with every sentence he spoke. He told him about the Pensieve and the trial that he'd witnessed. When he'd finished, Neville looked a little relieved at the fact that Harry had stopped or that he'd told him everything, Harry could not be sure. 

"I've seen the Pensieve as well," Neville began after a moment of silence. "Professor Dumbledore showed it to me at the beginning of third year, after the Dementors attacked the train."

Realization dawned on Harry. Neville had been in the same compartment as himself and the rest of them when a Dementor had boarded the train. It had affected him the most. He'd ended up on the floor. But, looking back on things, Harry did remember Neville turning as pale as a ghost. Of course, he would have remembered the moment that his parents were attacked. He must have been there, though very young. 

Neville continued, "I wasn't allowed to attend the trial." Anger permeated his voice. Harry had never seen this side of Neville before. He was usually a very gentle and quiet person. Ginny looked alarmed as well, but remained silent. "I didn't believe Crouch for a second," he said bluntly. Harry had just entered into another train of thought and was about to ask when Neville had beaten him to it. "I'm glad it ended the way it did, Azkaban was too good for him," he finished in an even tone. 

"Neville, you don't mean you actually wanted that Dementor to-," Harry began but was cut off by Neville who answered with a flat, "yes." 

Harry heard his words but did not look at him. He caught a curious sight that drove another realization into his mind: Ginny shuddered at the word Dementor. Harry wouldn't have given this a second thought as Ginny was good at empathy and would almost certainly place herself in the shoes of the unfortunate, even if they happened to be the shoes of Barty Crouch, Jr. 

Only Harry was confronted with the remembrance of that same train ride two years ago and Ginny huddled into one corner, shaking uncontrollably. It wasn't entirely in the past for her either. Her nightmare was very much with her. The Chamber would never be closed to her. His past would never go away. Neville would always be haunted by the sound of his tortured parents. 

They were kindred spirits in a dark place that few understood. 

He felt for the two that sat and suffered before him. Knowing exactly what it was that they were going through yet, being unable to say anything that would ease the burden of it frustrated him. He longed to silence the nightmare that played in the background of his mind as well. But it couldn't be silenced as long as there were such memories to be made or such creatures to feed off of the only thing that brought balance to them; the pleasant thoughts that made the grim ones bearable. 

Though it had darkened Harry's mood considerably and Ginny seemed more withdrawn than usual, Neville seemed okay—not fine—but okay. Harry and Ginny stood to follow the others down to the Great Hall for dinner and the final match that was to take place that night. Neville thanked them both for being honest and caring, true friends that were there for each other. He declined dinner and wished Ron all the luck in the world at the chess match against Malfoy and returned to his dormitory to sleep away the rest of Christmas, not one of his favorite holidays, to begin with. 

Harry wished he could do more, but Neville now knew that he had friends who understood his situation, not just Harry, but Ginny as well and he knew that he could talk to either of them anytime at all. 

***

Ron took his seat across the game table from Malfoy. He wore a resolute expression as he made his first move. Malfoy, however, seemed less in the game than Ron did. He looked as if he were being forced to finish out the tournament against his will and was unconcerned with whom the results would favor. He dully announced his move. 

Harry made the perfunctory scan of the Slytherin table. When he didn't find the curious little girl there, he shrugged and thought maybe she had returned home for the holidays. 

As the game wound down and several pieces from both sides of the board were smashed into unrecognizable bits, Ron declared his checkmate over Malfoy, who looked as though he'd resigned himself to this fate long ago. Dumbledore announced Ron as the winner. Both competitors got to their feet. Dumbledore signaled for the two to shake hands. Ron returned the gesture with a look in the Headmaster's direction to suggest that he was mad for even thinking it. 

Harry was surprised to see Draco offer his hand to Ron first, who took it apprehensively. Draco congratulated Ron with none of the ever-present sneering superiority that always accompanied any action toward a Weasley. 

However curious this scene might have been, what followed sent Harry into a torrent of conspiracy theories. He followed Malfoy's eyes as they flicked to the back of the hall briefly and caught those of the black-haired girl Harry had been casting about for. Draco gave her a quick smile before turning his attention back to the front where Ron was being awarded his prize: the tournament trophy and one hundred house points for Gryffindor. Their table went mad with cheering as Ron made his way over to the exuberant crowd. 

Ginny was standing on top of her chair on the opposite side of the table from Harry, Ron and Hermione. She jumped down as Ron came over to them and crawled under the table to meet them on the other side. She kissed her brother on the cheek and congratulated him quickly. She then turned to Harry as he was watching Hermione smother Ron in an excited hug. 

"Harry," she began in a timid voice.

"What is it Ginny?" Harry answered her in a distracted tone, not taking his eyes off of his two friends and grinning widely. 

Ginny continued, vying for Harry's attention as she had something very urgent to discuss with him. 

"I need to talk to you when you have a moment," she said sternly. Harry's attention was all hers. He took his eyes from his two friends and settled them on the worried and fidgeting Ginny. He figured that it must have something to do with their talk with Neville earlier and complied immediately to her request. 

***

Ginny had him by the hand walking very quickly up the marble staircase. It took a great deal of concentration for Harry not to trip on his way up them. 

She pulled him into the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom where she doubled over panting with exertion. "I didn't want anyone to see us," she added as an excuse for her speed. 

A long and awkward silence followed in which Harry could find nothing to say and was curious as to why he was dragged so forcefully there. He was just about to speak when Ginny sat down at a desk at the back of the room and withdrew a small package from her pocket. 

"Merry Christmas," Ginny said, holding the package out to Harry. Harry looked between Ginny and the gift she waited for him to take. "It's not really a Christmas gift," she explained, "it's more of a, of a-," she struggled for her words apparently very nervous in this situation. "Oh just open it!" she said losing all hope of a proper explanation.

Harry did as he was told. He tore open the brown paper wrapping and was met with a stunning piece of jewelry. His mouth hung open as he examined the intricately worked and beautiful ruby surrounded by a band of gold on a delicate gold chain. There were tiny words inscribed on the gold band that encased the ruby. It looked to be Latin.

"audi Domine deprecationem meam cum clamavero ad te cum levavero marcus meas ad oraculum sanctum tuum," Harry silently read to himself, in awe at how such a long phrase managed to fit on such a tiny charm and yet remain legible. 

"It's a Praemedicatus Crepundia," Ginny informed him. "A protective amulet. I've put an inscription on it. It says: 'When evil men advance against me, when my enemies and my foes attack me, they will stumble and fall.' Psalms 27:2."

Astonished, Harry looked up from the glittering ruby to Ginny. "This is… it's…wow! It's really beautiful, Gin. But I can't acc-,"

"If you were going to finish with 'I can't accept this' it's too late, Harry," Ginny said with authority, cutting off Harry's words decisively. 

She moved toward him and took the chain from his hand. He held its brown paper wrappings between them, as if it was an excuse not to move closer to Ginny, even though he very much wanted to. Harry concentrated very hard on keeping his heart from beating out of his chest at the realization that she was just inches from him as she stood on her tip-toes to reach around his neck and fasten the chain. She seemed entirely unaware of the internal struggle that was beginning in him at that very moment. He wanted to touch her flawless, porcelain cheeks, to know what it was like to kiss her. She really was quite beautiful and Harry had never realized how amazing her bright brown eyes looked when they sparkled in dim light. 

He hardly heard her as she continued with the instructions on this rare and beautiful gift, "now you cannot take it off, its protective properties will be useless otherwise, and it's important that no one else sees it. It must be kept a secret. Only its owner and its creator can know of its existence. It will ward off all curses from the wearer, if I did everything correctly, that is." She looked into Harry's eyes and shifted uncomfortably as this was the first time that they hadn't tried to avoid eye contact with each other.

Ginny was suddenly struck by how tall Harry appeared when she was standing this close to him, she never considered him tall but he towered over her. She was considerably shorter and made a mental note never to stand so close to him in the future. She was sure she looked absolutely dumpy and dwarf-like next to him. When had he gotten so tall? She was sure she couldn't remember when that had happened. 

Suddenly Ginny realized with much embarrassment that she was staring and standing alarmingly close to him. Her arms were still around his neck, she realized with horror, where she was still fumbling with the clasp. He looked shocked and uncomfortable, she noticed and was about to move back when it happened.

Harry had thrown down the paper that he was holding and drew Ginny closer to him, bending slightly to kiss her. He had wanted to do that since, he didn't know when, but it felt right at the moment. 

Ginny kissed him as well, shocked at his daring and enjoying it too much to recall herself immediately. But she did recall herself eventually and with much torment pulled away from him. 

He, in turn, looked shocked and embarrassed and began to mutter an apology, which Ginny promptly silenced. 

"Harry," she said, paling in front of him, "I'm sorry. I can't do this right now." Her lip began to tremble, Harry noticed with astonishment. That was definitely the wrong thing to do at the moment, he thought with a mental kick. Oh bugger! He'd screwed up big time. He couldn't look at her but was sure that she was angry with him, but when she spoke again that thought was put immediately from his mind. 

"Harry, don't misunderstand me, please. It's not you—you're wonderful. It's me. I can't do this right now. I'm not good enough…" she trailed off, apparently not wanting to finish that sentence as much as Harry didn't want her to.  

She looked down at her shoes as if they would tell her what to say next. She kicked the scuffed, Mary-Jane type shoes together methodically before continuing. "I've got to get down to the kitchens and get Neville some soup or something. I'm worried about him. He doesn't look so well." She turned and made to retreat from the classroom but stopped and turned to wish Harry a Happy Christmas before disappearing down the dark hallway. 

Harry was left in the lowly lit room staring after her and wondering why she was always running away from him. Maybe it was the best thing for the both of them. It was definitely too dangerous for her to be close to him, no matter how close he wanted her to be. He didn't want her hurt and distance was the best way to keep her safe. Her and everyone else Harry loved. 


	10. The Gray Clad Girl

Disclaimer: The amazing disappearing-reappearing Slytherin girl belongs to me, as does Anni and any future characters. The characters and places of the Harry Potter universe belong to Ms. Rowling. No infringement was intended in the writing of this story. 

Author's Note: It picks up from this point on and moves pretty fast. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did. Please review either way. I'd like to know what my readers are thinking at this point. 

Chapter Ten

 The gray clad girl

"Your prison is walking through this world all alone…" 

            Harry stepped out into the snow-covered expanse of the school's grounds. It was desolate and lonely. The leafless trees quaked desperately in the chilly mid-January wind that raked the frosty expanse in front of him. Harry pulled his cloak in closer around him to shelter himself from the icy chill. 

            He sought out places for quiet reflection in the comfort of the warmer castle but found none sufficient enough. He wanted more than just to be alone; he wanted to be miserable and alone. So he came to the conclusion that the forbidding landscape before him should provide just the place. 

            If he could find it underneath all of this godforsaken snow, there was a tree stump down by the lake that he was fond of, it afforded a nice view of the water and the gates beyond that, both likely covered in snow at the moment. 

            Harry wasn't alone at this particular time because he'd been deserted or had lost all of his friends. No, he'd taken great pains to subtly alienate himself from them (and not so subtly in Ginny's case—she'd helped a lot by avoiding him flat out, it seemed). 

            By the start of the next term, Harry had decided to do what all normal students facing extremely difficult end of the year tests would do to avoid unpleasant encounters with others—he immersed himself in solitary study. When the library was too crowded, he withdrew to other, more unconventional study spots. The lake was one he particularly liked. The clearing behind Hagrid's hut was another. It was cold at that time of year, but quiet. 

            Ever since the night that Ginny had given him that amulet he'd been trying to find out more about it, without actually confronting its maker personally. This meant that Harry would rather sift through passage after passage in dusty old volumes than ask Ginny how she had made it and for what purpose, etc. 

            If Harry had been honest with himself, which he hadn't at the moment, he would admit at once that when he'd gone out on a limb, like when he had and kissed Ginny, he never expected that she would be the one person that could truly hurt him. Or had he placed her on that pedestal and gotten angry with her when she'd fallen off? That scenario had never entered his mind. He chalked the whole scene up to the fact that being in close proximity to him was a dangerous and possibly fatal move. Look at Cedric—he'd been standing next to Harry in a maze one moment, harmless right? The next moment, flash of green light. Thud! Dead.

 It would become an epidemic with him. He couldn't blame Ginny for getting out while the getting was still good. She was the smart one. 

            Ron and Hermione where a little harder to convince and, indeed, Harry was still working on the two of them. It was getting easier, however, to shrug the two of them off as they were always ready and willing to take any opportunity of privacy. Harry was happy for the two of them, really. None of that third wheel bollocks for him, it was safer for all concerned if they would just leave this marked target to him. 

            Only he wasn't alone at that moment, as he rounded a dark corner of the castle, bound for the lake, he was met with a peculiar sight: the dark-haired Slytherin girl that had occupied the majority of his thoughts at the end of last term. He'd given up on ever finding out the identity of this mystery girl long ago. But now, as the opportunity presented itself, he was not going to pass it up. He would talk to her this time. 

            As he neared her, sitting on his stump by his lake, he noticed that she was reading something—a worn paperback whose title, Harry could not see from this vantage point. The next moment, he was almost sorry for his bold determination. She heard his footfalls that crunched in the snow and turned around to face the intruder, hurriedly wiping tears from her eyes and closing her book. Harry stopped mid-stride. 

            "Er, hello," he said timidly, now positive that he should have left well enough alone.

            "Hello Harry," the girl said with a smile placing her book neatly in her lap and distractedly straightening her fur-lined cloak.

            "Are you alright?" Harry couldn't help asking, she really had looked miserable when he'd happened upon her. 

            "Oh, yes," she said looking slightly embarrassed, "yes I'm fine, it's just this book. I can't help it. Does that to me every time." She smiled self-consciously holding up the novel, _Tale of Two Cities_. Harry had never read it so he would take her word for it. Anyway, he wasn't interested in a chat about classic muggle novels at the moment. Muggle, she read muggle literature. Was she out to break every Slytherin stereotype thrown her way? Harry began to grow incredulous, slightly. Surely she wasn't a muggle-born or half muggle, would they even let you into Slytherin house if you weren't pureblooded? 

            Growing uneasy in the silence that passed while Harry was assessing this growing enigma, the girl offered more information, without being prodded. "I'm Imogen, by the way. Imogen Spencer. I already know who you are," she smiled again, a warm pleasant smile, also very uncharacteristic of Slytherins. 

            Harry realized that if he continued in this vein it would drive him crazy and he would probably miss some interesting information about Imogen. No more keeping track of her odd, un-Slytherin-like tendencies, he agreed inwardly and sat down on a rock nearby as his tree stump was already occupied. 

            Imogen sat playing with her bracelet, which was far more beautiful close up. It had and emerald encased in platinum surrounded by smaller sapphires on it. As she noticed him studying it while she twisted it around her wrist, she immediately dropped her hands in her lap as if not sure what to do with them. 

            Harry decided not to make this a wasted conversation and plunged on with the investigation as to who this girl really was. "I've never seen you around before this year," Harry began innocently. The girl's smile widened as she found something about him exceedingly hilarious.

            "Are you grilling me because you find me suspicious or threatening?" she beat him to it. He was slightly taken aback. 

            "No, just curious," Harry feigned innocence.

She smiled again and continued, "Very well, my name is Imogen Spencer. I am thirteen years old, transferred from a private school on the continent near Yverdon-les-Bains on Lac de Neuchatel—that's in Switzerland in case you were wondering. I enjoy reading and horseback riding and I am not a Death Eater." She kept the same amused smile on her face as she ended on that sarcastic note. Harry didn't mind that she was mocking him. He found it all as amusing as she did. 

"In that case, I'm Harry Potter and I am not a Death Eater either," he joined in as she laughed at the ridiculousness of it. 

"Oh come on, is that all you have to say for yourself? You're supposed to introduce yourself with thoughtful details. Let me show you," she began, "Hello. My name is Harry Potter. I am a fifth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I enjoy flying and picking on defenseless students from Slytherin House. I enjoy History and am rubbish at Potions." She smiled again as she finished, finding herself very funny indeed. 

Harry couldn't help but laugh as well, even though it sounded like her understanding of him came from Malfoy himself—he didn't mind, he knew she was just teasing him and he found it very amusing. 

"I don't like history," he added as an amendment to her summary of him. 

"Oh very well then, Divination."

He was enjoying their talk very much. He only realized that it was growing dark outside as Imogen pointed out that she was beginning to lose feeling in her toes and should really be getting inside and to the library. 

Harry said a reluctant goodbye and watched her retreating form as she hurried off toward the school. 

***

"She won't talk," Wormtail admitted timidly dragging the prone form of a gray clad girl. An unearthly and detached voice spoke from some place unseen. 

"Wormtail, I said extract the necessary information from her not her last breath. We need her alive. I need her!" the voice practically screamed this last bit. 

The girl remained unrecognizable. All that could be seen of her really was the hem of a non-descript pleated gray skirt, knee-high gray socks and black shoes that buckled. It was the basic uniform of every girl that attended Hogwarts. 

What happened next was in typical Voldemort style and Harry would have been shocked if his scolding Wormtail didn't follow with the traditional punishment through the Cruciatus Curse. 

Of course, this was the moment that Harry woke up with a searing pain in his forehead and only a half-memory of the events that had taken place in his dream. He was frustrated at the fact that more was not revealed, perhaps something that could save these wretches Voldemort and his pathetic henchman were pursuing. 

Harry had guessed that whoever the man was in his previous string of dreams, the one that Wormtail was strangling, he was an important person to the cause. Maybe it was someone close to Dumbledore, but this girl, why would she be important? Why did Voldemort need her?   

Harry mulled over this strange enigma, late one night as he watched delicate flakes of snow cascade gracefully through the winter air, melt on the window pain and then freeze again. 

Maybe he couldn't help these people at all. They could already be dead. The old man that Harry had seen in the first of these dreams had died before Harry could even sort that dream out. Why was he seeing these people if he couldn't help, do something? It was cruel to watch them suffer and even more so to be powerless to stop it. 

***

The morning of the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match, Harry found himself in the Headmaster's office, dutifully explaining his recent visions and surmising their portents with the wise old wizard. 

Dumbledore gave him some little glimmer of hope: unlike that of the old man, this young girl and the man that Harry had seen recently might have a chance. Their fate might not be entirely sealed. These could all be future events, a very weak theory in Harry's opinion. 

As to the mention that Voldemort gave to Wormtail about needing the girl, Dumbledore could not venture a guess. He only took off his glasses and wiped them with the hem of his long purple robe and urged Harry for details; the color of the room, any visible light source, other figures present. Harry could offer none and left Dumbledore's office feeling more frustrated and useless than ever. 

He made his way down to the pitch to join his friends in the stands, silently hoping that the Ravenclaws would finally beat Slytherin House and give Harry something to smile about today. 

Ravenclaw did not start out too promising, but Terry had almost managed to knock Malfoy from his broom. 

Harry looked around the audience for Imogen, finding her a few levels below him, Ron and Hermione. She did not look too enthusiastic about Terry's attack on the Slytherin Seeker. She held her hands up near her mouth as if to ready them to shield her eyes should something horrific happen. 

Harry also noticed the absence of Ginny. He knew that she wasn't a big Quidditch enthusiast, but really, hiding in the infirmary and pulling extra duty just to avoid him was not Ginny's style. He hoped that she wasn't taking up the not eating and not sleeping lifestyle that she'd adopted during last term. He would have to get her on her own soon and talk to her, whether she wanted to or not.  After that she could avoid him all she wanted to, he just wanted one chance to explain. 

Harry returned his attention to the game just in time to notice that Terry was getting very brave out there. Malfoy's broom was far superior to his and yet he was pulling all the stops. He wasn't just tailing Malfoy, he was weaving, blocking and blindsiding the opposing Seeker, reminding Harry of a rather slimy player that he'd run up against occasionally who'd usually result to such tactics. Who was that again? Oh, yes it was Malfoy. He was getting a dose of his own dirty game ethic and Harry was enjoying every second of it. Then Terry had ducked a Bludger one of the opposing Beaters had shot his way. It hit Malfoy somewhere around his right ear, Harry guessed, knocking him from his broom. He didn't have far to fall as he was already into a pretty precarious dive. The fall wouldn't hurt him nearly as much as that blow from the Bludger. Blood was everywhere. 

Imogen leaped to her feet with a startled shriek and ran for the field, pushing students out of her way very forcefully for her size. 

Terry caught the Snitch winning Ravenclaw a twenty-point lead over Slytherin and a victory that would be talked about for quite some time. 

Harry watched with the rest of the students as Malfoy was rushed inside along with a frantic Imogen. 

As much as Harry loathed that particular Slytherin, he didn't want him dead or permanently eating his food through a straw. He would ask Ginny about him later as she would surely be assisting Madame Pomfrey at the moment and would have details. 

***

"How is he?" Harry asked a weary Ginny as she climbed in through the portrait hole. Everyone else was down to dinner. Harry couldn't eat unless he'd known for sure that Malfoy was all right. After all, he did wish that Ravenclaw would win, and was feeling guilty that his hatred for Malfoy had run that deep. He didn't hate Malfoy that much, really. 

"Not awake yet," she said, not looking his way. She made a direct route for the stairs. "I've volunteered to sit up with him tonight. I need to change out of these bloody robes and then I'm heading back there." Her voice was clipped and impatient. She looked very tired. 

Harry knew how much this assistant opportunity meant to her. She hoped to begin an internship at the prestigious Medical Acadamie at St. Maurice's in Paris the summer after next. Harry felt that she was pushing herself too hard. Maybe a little bit of it was because of him, he thought. 

"Did you want something Harry?" Ginny said reappearing in jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a cardigan in one hand. He was still standing where she'd left him. 

"Gin, I need to talk to you," Harry admitted instantly, feeling that she wasn't going to wait around for him to get to the point. 

"Well, walk with me and talk, I've got to be back now," she said with authority. Harry immediately followed. 

"Ginny," he began, "I'm sorry for everything that happened on Christmas."

"What Harry," Ginny asked looking thoroughly confused, "what are you sorry for? The kiss? I'm not. I hope that's not what you mean." She looked hurt and offended at the suggestion. 

"Well, you ran off. I thought I had scared you," he admitted. 

Ginny placed a hand on his arm, "No, Harry. Don't be sorry. You don't scare me in the least. It's just timing—it sucks. I can't explain it all now, but someday you'll understand." She smiled comfortingly as they stopped in front of the infirmary doors. She stepped closer and kissed him gently on the forehead and assured him, "I do love you, Harry. Don't ever doubt that. I just can't be with you is all. I'll always love-," 

They both heard it and stopped. 

It was the voice of Professor Snape. 

"Sorry excuse for a Qudditch player. You'll never amount to more than a shoddy second place. Always outshone by that Mudblood lover, Potter."

Harry leaned closer and exchanged a stunned look with Ginny who shrugged to say that she had no idea what was going on. He chanced a look through the glass and noted a groggy and bandaged Malfoy and an irate Snape, who turned to the door. 

Harry grabbed Ginny and pulled her forcefully into a nearby closet, eager not to be seen by the angry Professor as he stalked by. 

Checking that he had gone, Ginny hurried into the infirmary and over to Malfoy, who was stirring. Harry looked around for Madame Pomfrey, curious as to why Snape was allowed to carry on the way he had to a student—a critically injured student, nonetheless. She was nowhere to be seen. 

Harry came over to the bedside where Ginny was standing muttering an incantation that immediately knocked her bandaged invalid out. 

"Is he all right?" Harry asked breathlessly, slightly worried in light of the scene he'd just witnessed. Professor Snape had been as out of temper as he usually was after he'd returned at the beginning of term, but Harry had never, in all of his years as a student here, seen him this angry, at one of his prized students, nonetheless—and an unconscious one at that. 

"Would you like me to stay?" Harry asked tentatively, knowing full well that Ginny would refuse him. She did. 

"No, Harry. I'll be fine. I don't think he'll be back tonight and besides, Madame Pomfrey should be back soon." She smiled to reassure him. Really, he was just as overbearing as her brothers, even as bad as Ron.

Harry left her reluctantly. He didn't want her there alone with Malfoy, but did as he was told and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. 


	11. Gathering Clouds

Disclaimer: Imogen Spencer and Annabelle Bennett belong to me. The rest is Rowling's, lucky lady!

Author's Note: All right, it's coming down to the wire now, lots of action. You kids enjoy! And, as always, please be kind and review. 

Chapter Eleven

Gathering Clouds

_"The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine,_

It's hard to tell the nighttime from the day…" 

            Harry pushed his books away from him. He'd been distracted a lot in the past month or so, after the scene he and Ginny had witnessed in the infirmary. 

            He'd been noticing the altered mood of the Potions Master, altered to most of his students—not to Harry. No, to Harry he was still scathingly antagonistic. The altered bit was that he was no different to any of the other students. He treated all with the same glaring menace. He'd even managed to reduce the solid, wrestler-like Millicent Bullustrode to a heap of nerves and tears last week. She was causing such a distraction with her sobbing that she was escorted out of the room by Pansy Parkinson and hadn't been back since. 

            Malfoy had just come out of the infirmary two weeks ago and already Snape was giving him a little of what the others got in his absence. He was singled out less, Harry noticed, but not much. And he was one of the best students in the class Harry would allow himself to admit. The whole situation made less sense the more he thought about it. So, he would try not to. 

            "I've got it," Hermione said excitedly across the table, startling Harry back into reality. "I'll write the history of the most impenetrable wizard fortress in all of Great Britain." 

            Harry, Ron and Hermione were sifting through volumes of dusty old history books for topics to write on for a massive end of term report for Professor Binns' History of Magic final.

            "And that would be…" Ron answered, deflating Hermione somewhat.

            "Azkaban," she quipped impatiently flipping through a large, leather bound book as if this was entirely too obvious. 

            Ron shrugged, uninterested. 

            Harry offered a, "Happy writing. Should be great fun."

            Hermione entered into a soliloquy on the importance of getting a head start on research assignments so that their deadlines don't creep up. Harry and Ron were trying hard to appear interested. Neither of them were, really. 

            "Oh it should be loads of fun. For instance, did you know that it was once a military outpost for the troops of the Wizarding War Council back in the twelfth century? It was built by Benjamin Gryffindor, son of Godric Gryffindor." She looked up from the text she'd just read out of, smiling. "Interesting, huh?"

            "Oh, very," Ron offered sarcastically. 

***

            Harry reluctantly entered the dark and dripping dungeon chamber, scanning for the scowling and beetle-eyed Professor. Not in at the moment he quickly noted. Taking his usual seat at the back of the class, Ron and Hemrione sat beside him. Safety in numbers, Harry thought with a silent smile. 

            Snape chose that very moment to charge into the room, letting the large oak door crash into the flagstone wall behind him with a bang. He made a deft movement to the front of the room and wrote the ingredients to an advanced potion on the board. The look on Hermione's face suggested that this would be a challenging one. Harry chanced a glance at Neville who was squirming a couple of desks ahead of him. Harry knew that with the unforgiving mood Snape was in, things would not turn out well for him. 

            "I'm going to ask to be paired with Neville," Hermione decided, raising her hand to the protests of Ron. 

            "Yes!" the professor shouted irritably, glaring at Hermione. 

            "Sir, may I move to be paired with Neville?" she asked timidly. 

            To Harry's shock and amazement Snape conceded. 

            "Yes, Granger. See to it that Longbottom doesn't screw this one up. Truth Serums are rather temperamental in their beginning stages." He turned back to his list. 

            "Sir," Hermione continued picking up her open book and scanning it as she simultaneously moved her belongings to where Neville was sitting, "I think you've gotten the ingredients a little mixed up, it's not-," Hermione stopped in her tracks as the Potions Master rounded on her drawing his wand and pointing it between her eyes.

            Ron made to stand as Harry and Seamus each grabbed an arm to restrain him. 

            "You would be surprised to know just how many horribly disfiguring charms I am in command of, Miss Granger. Care to test my knowledge on them?" He hesitated, waiting for her answer. He got a paralyzed stare. "Then I think you should hold your tongue, sit down and keep your eager, know-it-all mouth shut!" he bellowed as Hermione sat (more like collapsed into the chair next to Neville). 

            The class went on with as little movement or talking on the part of the students as possible. As it turned out, Hermione was right; in a synchronized effort, all caldrons in the room spontaneously combusted causing Snape to dismiss class early driving all students from his dungeon with much shouting and wand waving. 

***

            Harry scanned the room frantically. The prone forms of students, ministry officials, Death Eaters and teachers littered the gray stone floor. Scores of carbon copied, hooded figures sparred with adversaries, great and small, skirting the dead that began to multiply around them. Voldemort was in the throng of it all. 

            Harry could see Wormtail through a firefight of curses and hexes. He was there—a man kneeling, neck in his silver grasp. He seemed to smile maniacally. He was enjoying this. Harry felt sick but suppressed the feeling, as he was sure that he was the only chance that this unknown man had at survival. He had to get to him, without his intervention he would surely die. 

            He became distracted when he saw her. Imogen, among other adults and some students as well, wand at hand and a determined look on her face. Try as he might, Harry could not tell if she was fighting alongside of the hooded figures that seemed to surround her or against them. Her silver and green tie, the insignia on her school robes designating Slytherin House and the set and determined glint in her eyes oddly conjuring images to Harry's mind of Malfoy on the train after fourth year, maliciously stomping on the memory of Cedric Diggory. Harry willed himself not to give in to the stereotyped stigma but remain objective. 

            He saw her take a hit and fall. 

            He could not get to her. He could not get to the man. People were falling all around him and he was helpless to do a thing. 

            He woke up with the customary pain in his scar, threw on glasses and a robe and went down stairs. This was becoming an unpleasant tradition. 

            Harry was almost expecting to see Ginny's brilliant red head upon entering the common room. There she was, constant, comforting like a beacon in a dreadfully tossing cold sea. 

            She looked up from her book to note his entrance with a smile and suddenly Harry felt better, warmer, safe, home. Ginny moved her feet from their position on the couch she was sitting on, giving Harry room to sit beside her. 

            "Trouble sleeping?" she asked with a sympathetic glance at him. He nodded.

            A sudden thought occurred to him as he sat back and she took up her book again, he'd never asked her about the amazing charm she'd given him for Christmas. The mystery jewel had been ever present in his mind since it had been placed around his neck and he wanted to know more. 

            "Ginny, this amulet you gave me-," he was cut off when Ginny began shushing him promptly. 

            "Harry! Not so loud." She looked around the room frantically and then calmed when she found no lurkers. "Sorry, I'm a bit paranoid, Harry. It's just that I've been worried about you since I met you and I've been working on that gift for nearly as long. I just want it to work properly and it won't if,"

            "If I announce to everyone that I have it," he finished for her in a monotone indicating that he was tired of this excuse. 

            Ginny took the hint and finally explained, "After you saved me in my first year from, from," she hesitated, not meeting Harry's eyes, "the Chamber, I wanted to pay you back. This was the way I thought would be most acceptable to you." She indicated the charm as she spoke. "I knew you wouldn't accept my outright help, I mean what could I do? But I do realize that you are constantly in danger and it would ease the minds of those who love you to know that you aren't entirely an open target." She sighed and continued, steeling herself up to say something that she'd wanted to say for sometime, but not knowing how exactly. "And it's sort of an apology."

            "Apology?  Apology for what, Ginny?" Harry said wholly not expecting this. 

            "For getting you into that mess with Tom Riddle to begin with. It was my fault and you could have easily been killed." She looked every bit as guilty as she sounded. Harry was eager to reassure her that she never posed a threat to him. 

            "No, Ginny that wasn't your fault. You don't know how worried we were for you, how worried I was when I saw you. I thought you were dead."

            Ginny smiled at his attempt to misplace the blame, but she could not be dissuaded. Whatever trouble she got, she'd asked for it. 

            Changing the conversation for fear that he would never concede, Ginny replied, "Anyway, that was why I stormed into Flitwick's class. I guess I was a little overexcited about it. I'd really made excellent progress on it that day. He, of course, thought that it was just and experiment, not a real Praemedicatus Crepundia," she finished with alacrity. 

It all came together for Harry. He understood why her mood had been altered last term. With the pending medical internship, infirmary duty and a pra- whatever the thing was—to make, he was amazed that she'd found the time to do it all. He was flattered that she would go to such lengths for him and gratified more than he could express by the gesture. She really was a rare creature. He was lucky to be able to call her friend. 

***

"Good luck, Harry!" Hermione called as Ron waved. Harry joined the rest of the team for the final match of the season. 

Angelina was already charging through her pep talk as Harry came through the doors of the locker room. 

George was asleep and Fred was causing a disturbance as usual. Harry took his seat undetected by Angelina. His nerves were fading, sort of, as he was still more distracted by the behavior of Professor Snape lately and the fact that Imogen had showed up in his dreams. 

Actually, come to think about it, it wouldn't seem all that strange for a girl, a pretty girl with a cute smile and a contagious personality to end up in the dream of a fifteen year old boy. But this was Harry, mind you, and he often didn't dream like normal boys his age. There was always some looming and ominous portent to his dreams. A girl showing up in them, brandishing a wand nonetheless, wasn't to be taken as a good sign. 

Quidditch seemed to have found itself on the backburner, even seconds before the match that would make or break their brief Quidditch Cup record. 

As the players took their positions on the field, Lee Jordan began to run through the names on the Slytherin roster, followed by Gryffindor. Harry took a moment to scope out his opposing Seeker. Malfoy looked undaunted, as if the whole Bludger incident had never taken place. But it had. Harry tried to restrain the thought that crept up in the back of his mind. "Play that to your advantage, Potter!" Odd, his inner demon voice even sounded a bit like Malfoy. All the more reason to ignore it, Harry told himself. 

The whistle blew. 

The rain came down in buckets at the very same moment. 

Slytherin's Beaters didn't even hesitate. Harry had to duck both Bludgers as they came whooshing past him. Malfoy smirked slightly before taking off in the opposite direction.   

The Gryffindor Chasers had given them a comfortable lead early on in the game by scoring four goals in rapid succession. Lee announced the score to be forty to zero, Gryffindor in the lead. 

Still, Harry was hoping that Malfoy would play it safe this time around and make it all the more easy for him to catch the Snitch early on before the other team had had a chance to score. A shut out game would be a nice way to end the season, he thought with a smile. 

To Harry's great surprise he'd seen the Snitch whisk past him. As he made a dive in pursuit of the walnut-sized ball streaking toward the ground, Malfoy also dived, but not in pursuit of the Snitch. 

He merely touched down and walked off the field, dragging his latest model racing broom in the mud behind him. 

Harry touched down, Snitch in hand and an irate Slytherin captain shouting at Malfoy as he walked up to the castle without turning around. Harry watched through dripping glasses as Imogen emerged from the stands and trailed off after the blond boy. 

Harry had won his team the House Cup and it felt like the cheapest victory ever. He suddenly grew angry. Malfoy. He'd planned this, Harry was sure of it. He'd lost his nerve and new he couldn't win out there and so the only thing left to do was to see to it the victory of the match was enjoyed by no one. 

Harry threw down his broom as Ron came over to him with an angry expression on his wet features. "What the hell was that all about?" he asked Harry, practically yelling to be heard over the thunder and arguing of the Slyhterin Team and Madam Hooch. 

***

"But it's not like you to give up," Harry heard Imogen's voice as he made to round a corner on his way up to the hospital wing. 

"But I don't give a damn about that sodding Qudditch Cup. I don't even know why I agreed to start in the game. I'm not sorry I walked off at all," Draco cut in decisively. Harry could tell there was more than a bit of tension in his voice. 

He peered around the corner to note that the two were conversing near a small alcove at the bottom of the stairs. Harry felt slightly guilty that he'd stopped to listen, guilty only because he wanted to respect Imogen's privacy. Still he wanted to know what Malfoy's problem was. This charade he'd put on out there on the Quidditch pitch was right on par with his more than erratic behavior lately. 

Imogen hesitated then ventured further, "It's to do with your mother, isn't it?"

This set Draco off. Harry almost rounded the corner to intervene when he'd seen Draco's livid expression and his angry intake of breath. But before Harry had picked his moment, Draco turned on his heel and with a voice of practiced patience he remarked, "You have no idea what you're talking about, Spencer, and you'd do well to keep out of it." With that he stalked angrily away. 

Harry watched as Imogen massaged her back and exhaled tiredly. She shook her head as the form of her only friend retreated down the corridor and then turned to walk off in another direction herself. 

Harry wanted to say something but felt that it was none of his business. After all, he'd be the last person to offer objective advice about problems with Malfoy. 

He continued up to the infirmary. Ginny was not skiving off dinner tonight. Harry would make her come down and join them. He missed having her around, she was always way too busy just to sit down and be unproductive for two minutes all together. 

***

"Do you know anything about Malfoy's mother?" Harry asked Ginny as he held the infirmary door for her. It had taken a lot more convincing than he would have thought to coax her out of her natural environment. 

She stopped abruptly to stare at him. 

"Is that why you are so interested in my company this evening? Pumping me for information on Malfoy." She looked at him incredulously. 

Way to go, Harry thought to himself, that's exactly what it seemed like. He'd never even stopped to consider what people actually meant by 'you have to pick your moments.' 

"No, that's not it-," Harry began as Ginny smirked and shook her head, continuing down the hall.

"Harry, just leave him alone, please. He's had a rough year," she stopped as Harry laughed slightly at the phrase. "He's done nothing to you all year long, why must you antagonize him all the time. Just drop it Harry," Ginny continued, growing tired of his lack of seriousness on the issue. 

"Okay, I'll leave him alone. Since when did you become such a crusader for unfortunate Slytherins?" Harry realized that she'd become a little more harangued about his mocking Malfoy than he would have guessed of her, being a Weasley and all. 

Ginny shrugged and shook her head, offering no more on the topic since they were in the Great Hall and someone was always bound to overhear something innocent and totally distort it for their twisted purposes. She'd had experience with this. 

Harry noted the flashing and dark, churning sky that the ceiling mimicked of the outside. It had been a tempest like he'd never seen before. And it was incredible. 

Hermione showed how pleased she was to see that Ginny had made time for them and come down to dinner by monopolizing all conversation. Harry and Ron carried on their prolonged discussion on the recent Quidditch win for Gryffindor, by no means a pleasant memory. It was the most anticlimactic and devastating win in the schools history. Angelina was still fuming. 

It was then that the doors slammed open admitting a torrent of black hooded figures and towering ones in gray. 

The room went cold and dark.  

It was eerily silent. Not a movement was made until some light was found. 

Death Eaters and Dementors alike flooded into the room. Dark figured guards at each of the entrances held lanterns, the only light in the room other than the lightening-streaked ceiling. 

The hall erupted into delayed panic as students, teachers and intruders meshed together in a chaotic free for all. 

In a sea of mayhem, Harry looked up to the table at the front. Dumbledore would customarily stand and restore order, like he had when the troll had invaded the school in his first year. 

Only the Headmaster—their only security—was not there. 

A handful of other teachers, including the stern Deputy Headmistress and head of the school's tiny security force, Diggory, stood with wands brandished against their attackers and were fighting furiously. 

Harry felt the penetrating cold. 

Dementors.

He scanned the room and caught sight of a few second years huddled in a corner, trapped by a dominating gray hood and cloak. He could not get to them. They were at least a hundred feet away. In any case scenes like this occurred all over the enormous hall at the very same moment. Students were hurling curses and taking them as well. Some of the upper year students were putting up a pretty heroic fight. 

Even fewer than that, but still worth noting, were those students clad in ties and robes that designated Slytherin House and had joined the side of the attackers. Granted all in this category were not necessarily Slytherins, Harry could see two Ravenclaws and a Gryffindor round on Professor Vector, unarming her expertly.  

A timid and shaking hand grabbed hold of Harry's. He moved to step in front of Ginny whose hand he clung to tightly, shielding her from the assault. He looked to Ron and Hermione who stood on the opposite side of the table wands out and ready. Two Death Eaters had seen them and turned to engage them. 

Harry would have jumped the table and come to the aid of his friends if he hadn't felt the telltale chill of an approaching Dementor. Even the way Ginny's hand shook uncontrollably in his own indicated that one was close. He spotted it, moving through the crowd and firefight straight toward them. 

"Expecto Patronum," Harry spoke the incantation with authority dispatching a silver Patronus to combat the menacing gray form. The screaming in his head was earsplitting and caused his vision to blur slightly. 

Ducking a rogue curse, or possibly an expertly aimed one, Harry pulled Ginny under the massive Gryffindor Table with him. 

"Stay here," he commanded sternly, "don't move for anything."

She met his eyes, wide with fear and surprise. "How did they get in here? Impossible," she managed to say, breathing as if she'd just run a marathon. 

"I don't know," Harry answered quickly. "I have to go and help Ron and Hermione." He crawled back out into the hail of fallen bodies, some dead, others unconscious or wounded. 

He found Ron nearby, ducking, taking fire and giving it in turn. 

"Where's Hermione?" Harry said, quickly dodging a hex that had gone astray. 

"She went to help Parvati. Harry, I think they took her," he said chancing a look at his friend, a furious sort of panic in his eyes. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest. Hermione was gone. "They're Apparating in and out of here as fast as they'd come," Ron continued, disarming a Death Eater and bringing her to the ground with a crash. 

"Have you seen Ginny?" Ron hesitated a moment and then looked at Harry, his face a mask of worry. 

"She's fine, hidden," Harry reassured him as more members of both camps fell around them. 

Then Harry saw something that made both himself and Ron start with shock. Neville cowered against a wall under the shadow of a hungry gray figure. His wand lay on the ground a few feet out of his reach. It was futile. He was white as a ghost and nearing the point of unconsciousness. 

With a sick feeling, Harry realized that neither he nor Ron could make it across the room and to Neville in time. Still he would have to try. 

Ron sprang into action next to him, headed in the same direction. 

A Death Eater in front of them Apparated away with a student in his clutches, a hand wrapped tightly around the neck of a tiny Hufflepuff girl. 

"Oh no!" Ron breathed hopelessly as they neared the scene. 

Ginny had come to Neville's aid before either of them had reached him. She was also unconscious and vulnerable to the approaching Dementor, lying across Neville's motionless form. 

Harry and Ron both stopped, the shock of the scene working to freeze their limbs. 

A tall, black, hooded form stepped between the two prone forms and the creature. Dropping his hood, Harry and Ron could see the face of Professor Snape as he faced the Dementor. Only he wasn't intending to protect the two students. He spoke to the gray figure with a sneer. "Not this one, you foul and stupid beast. The Dark Lord requested her personally." 

Ron let out an indignant curse as the black form of Snape bent to pick up the small girl who put up no resistance as she was out cold. All Harry could see of her was black buckled shoes gray knee-high socks and pleated skirt of the same color. Her fiery red hair cascaded over the black robed arm of the professor. It was without a doubt Ginny and she was very much in danger. 

Harry sprang after her as Ron was brought to the ground with a Stunning Charm. He had not time enough to look back for Ron. His one thought was to get to Ginny. 

Snape Apparated from the Great Hall with his small load before Harry had taken three steps closer and Ginny was gone. 

Harry stood in the midst of the waning battle unprotected staring at the spot he'd last seen Ginny. He hardly even felt the blow of some heavy piece of furniture as it made contact with the back of his head. 

All of the swirling movement and sound of the disrupted hall faded into black nothingness. 


	12. It May Be Rainin'

Disclaimer: The characters and places of the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic and Warner Bros. No infringement was intended in the writing of this story. Imogen and Anni are mine along with the plot of the story. 

Author's Note: Well, folks we're nearing the end of the story. Hold tight, this chapter's a doosey! I rather enjoyed writing it and I would like to know how my readers enjoyed it so please, as always, drop me a review. 

Chapter Twelve

It may be rainin'

"And freedom, oh freedom, well that's just some people talkin'…" 

            As the world came painfully back to Harry, he realized that he was laying flat on his back on a cold, gray, flagstone floor. The back of his neck ached with a dull pain as he twisted his head sideways to get his bearings. He appeared to be on the floor of a—no, that couldn't be right—he was lying on his back on the floor of a prison cell. 

            Everything came quickly back to him: Ron had taken a hit and had fallen beside him, only as he scanned the cell, Ron was nowhere to be seen. He also remembered that Ron was afraid Hermione had been taken, but taken where Harry had no idea. 

            He made and excruciating effort to sit up. Only to be rewarded with an intense jolt of pain that ran down his spine with the movement. He collapsed backward on the hard floor with a groan. 

            "Harry are you alright?" a soft and comforting voice asked, betraying a hint of worry. His vision swam in and out of focus but slowly he recognized the image of Ginny leaning over him. She seemed scared. 

            Lifting his head as gently as possible, Ginny moved closer, placing her knees under him to cushion his aching head. "Don't move Harry, everything is fine." She hesitated slightly and adopted a very frank and hopeless tone of voice. "No, actually things are not fine. I think we're in Azkaban." She lifted her hands from the back of his head and examined them. "And I think you're bleeding," she added with concern. 

            As she examined the wound at the base of his skull and stemmed the flow with her discarded school robe, Harry spoke feebly, "How did we get here and who all is 'we'?" He tried to sit up and scan the cell but was gently restrained with one small hand of Ginny's placed firmly on his chest. 

            "Take it easy, Harry, they're gone for the moment. As to the 'we', a few other students—Hermione's over there." She nodded her head in their friend's direction. "With Professor Snape."

            Harry gave a start at the name. "Snape! It was him, he let them in, the Dementors and the Death Eaters, he's the one that took you!" Ginny shushed him immediately. 

            "Calm down, Harry. It wasn't Professor Snape. He's been in here all the while. Someone else must have been impersonating him." She helped him slowly into a sitting position, keeping a firm grip around his midsection to keep him from collapsing again. His head wound worried her—most of the blood was dried, but it looked serious. 

            "How about you?" Harry asked tentatively touching his head and rolling his neck around with a grimace. "Are you hurt at all?" 

            "No, I'm fine," she answered. "Hermione looks pretty shaken up and I'm worried about that little girl over there," Ginny said, pointing with her free hand. Harry followed it only to be greeted with the sight of a pale and seemingly lifeless Imogen. Her lolling head was cradled in Malfoy's lap as he looked on her with a frantic sort of worry. 

            "Do you know what happened to her?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes off of the pair. 

            "No," Ginny shook her head helplessly. "I wish I could do something, but they've got us all locked up. I can't get to her. He doesn't look like he knows the slightest bit about medical magic." She passed a weary hand over her eyes. "Not that I'd be of much use. They took my wand." It was hard to take in all of this suffering around them. Harry could sympathize. 

            Several thoughts passed through Harry's fuzzy mind at once. One, what the hell was Malfoy doing locked up in Azkaban on the orders of the Death Eaters? Two, how could he get to Imogen to help? Three, what was Hermione doing? 

            He caught sight of the bushy haired girl crying hysterically in the cell on the other side of Malfoy and Imogen. Snape placed an awkward hand on her shoulder to calm her some. None of them wanted to rouse the tempers of their captors, who, at present, must be outside of the cellblock, guarding the entrance, Harry assumed. Snape spoke too low for Harry to hear, but whatever it was he'd said to Hermione only made her more hysterical. Harry watched Malfoy in the cell next to him as he shook his head wearily and closed his eyes to the noise, leaning back on the cell bars. 

            "Is there something wrong with her?" Harry asked with a worried glance at Ginny who had silent tears in her eyes as well. 

            She cleared her throat and wiped her face on her shirtsleeve. "She tried to help her, but it was too late." Ginny looked back at Harry and dropped her gaze to the ground. 

            "Who, Ginny? Who was it?" He almost didn't want to know. 

            "Parvati Patil. Hermione took on the Dementor, but it almost got her as well." She stopped a moment and then continued, "Did you see if Neville was okay?"

            "I was knocked out just after you were taken, Ginny. I don't know." He couldn't lie to her—she had to know, "and Ron," he continued. 

            Ginny let out a sob and placed a hand over her mouth to stifle it. Her eyes shone all the terror that was necessary. Harry felt bad that he had to be the bearer of this news, but indeed, he was unsure if any of them would get out of this alive. "He was hit right before me, Ginny." Tears were streaming down her face now. Harry fought the painful knot that formed in his throat. 

            "But he wasn't brought here, I didn't see him," Ginny managed to say through her hands. "That means-," she stopped at the thought of it and dissolved into shuddering tears. 

            "I know, Gin," Harry admitted, gathering her up in his arms. She clung tight around his injured neck and cried into his shoulder. He bit back the pain she was causing him and stroked her hair comfortingly. "I didn't see what happened to him after he fell, Gin. He could be fine, for all I know."

            He felt her nod as her head rested on his shoulder and his neck ached with unrelenting fury.

***

            "You! Up!" A tall hooded figure spoke and leveled his wand at a group of lower year students who cowered under his presence. He singled out a terrified girl, grabbing her roughly by the arm, leading her through heavy steel doors. 

            This had been happening about every hour since Harry had been awake. They were taken to God knows where and they never came back, reminding Harry ominously of a scene from the cartoon movie 'Lady and the Tramp'. Everyone knows it, the scene in the pound. The door marked with an X. The dogs go in and none ever come out. 

            This was similar in a very un-cartoon way. Harry wished that there were some way he could stop this. He had no idea why they were being systematically taken to the firing squad, he was sure that there was some form of mass genocide magic that would work appropriately. What was the purpose of extracting them one at a time?

            "It's him. I know he's here," Ginny said suddenly, startling Harry a little. He'd thought she was asleep, her head was resting on his chest and she hadn't moved for over half and hour. 

            "What do you mean?" Harry asked more for conversation purposes than anything else. He rubbed her arm trying to warm her up a bit. Wherever this place was, it was not very warm at night. Her fingertips felt icy. 

            "Voldemort." She spoke the name without fear. " He's in this place. I can feel him, sort of. I can't explain how I know. Really, I think it's him, trust me on this one."

            "I trust you, Gin. That isn't a very good thing, you know. If it's him, I mean. We're all in a lot of trouble. Think about it. No one even knows where it is they've brought us."

            "I know," Ginny admitted, heaving a sigh and picking her head up to check on the occupants of the next cell. Imogen seemed to have a little more color than she'd had earlier, but was still out. She lay on her side, one arm tucked under her head as it rested on Draco's knees. He was also asleep at the moment, or just resting his eyes. His head was leaning back on the bars of the cell as they met the wall in a corner. Three Hufflepuff cellmates huddled in an opposite corner. 

            "What time is it, d'you know?" Ginny asked massaging her neck and blinking.

            Harry shrugged. He guessed that it was sometime after midnight.

            Beyond the next cell, Snape was sitting on a stone slab. Yes, he got the presidential suite of the joint. He was eyeing Hermione with concern. Hermione looked right at home in her cell. She was sitting on the ground near the door of her cell, knees drawn up into her chest in a tight ball. She was rocking nervously and staring at the ground in front of her, giving her the look of a deranged mental patient. 

            Ginny shook her head sympathetically. She wished that she could comfort her friend, but there was really nothing she could do, being two locked cells away from her. 

            The same hooded figure returned—no small Hufflepuff girl in tow. He extracted Ernie MacMillan from his cell and led him through the door. 

            Ernie went willingly, unflinchingly, very much like another brave Hufflepuff he'd know at one time.

Harry felt Ginny shudder. 

***

            "The Dark Lord wishes to have a word with you, Miss Weasley." A high and familiar voice extended its sinister invitation, unlocking the door to their cell with a wave of his silver hand. 

            Wormtail.

            The cell door swung open. 

            Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye a motion from a few cells over. Snape had gotten to his feet. He was watching the whole scene with rage and concern. 

            "Peter, if you harm that child-," Snape's voice rang from the other side of the room with authority. It would have been enough to intimidate Harry back in the Potions Dungeon at school. Not Wormtail, however. He laughed and turned in the Potion Master's direction.

"I hardly think that you are in a position to threaten me, Severus," Wormtail laughed mirthlessly. 

            Harry and Ginny were both on their feet. Harry, a bit unsteady from the head injury, wobbled a bit before gaining his balance. He immediately stood between Ginny and her pursuer. 

            "Nevertheless, Pettigrew. I will hunt you down if you touch her." Snape's fingers were in a white knuckled grip on the bars of his cell. Malfoy was awake and alert to the situation. Watching everything with quiet attention. Wormtail caught sight of him and sneered menacingly, recognition passing briefly across his features. Malfoy's face remained expressionless as he stared back. Harry had no doubt that he recognized Peter as well—he just hid it better. 

            "Don't give me the opportunity to make you bleed, Potter. It would definitely be my pleasure," Wormtail spat, stepping threateningly closer to Harry who didn't budge. He would have to do more than draw blood if he wanted to get to Ginny. 

            The determined look that covered Harry's features melted as he felt Ginny's hand close shaking around the crook of his arm. She stepped out from behind him quietly reassuring him that this was the only way. He was suddenly very afraid. She would feed herself to the wolves for him and the thought was terrifying. He tried to stop her but she slipped through his grip and followed Wormtail through the cell door and off the block. 

            Harry stared past her in disbelief. 

            She was gone.

***

            "How do you feel?" Malfoy asked, helping Imogen to sit up. She rubbed at her eyes groggily and then, as if suddenly realizing where she was, she got straight to her feet. She landed hard on the ground in the next instant and took that opportunity to answer his question. 

"Sick, I think I'm going to be sick."

            A look of horror passed over Malfoy's features. "Don't do it here. Go over there. Puke in Potter's cell."

            Harry stopped his pacing to glare at Malfoy. Then he turned to Imogen and told her to lie still for a moment until the feeling passed.

            "Thank you ever so much, Nurse Potter," Malfoy quipped as he sat down beside Imogen who was holding her head in her hands. 

"What was I hit with?" she asked Malfoy as he rubbed her back. 

            "I don't know what it was but you got it right in the gut and went down pretty quickly," Malfoy said. Harry could tell that he was restraining some sort of snide comment. It was rather odd that he censored his behavior around this girl. He really cared for her. The worried attention that he showed her seemed to confirm it. Harry felt a spark of jealousy as he watched the two of them. 

She nodded, accepting this as answer enough. She opened a minuscule compartment on her bracelet, one hidden behind a sapphire, producing a tiny pill, which she swallowed promptly. She replaced her head in her hands and rocked back and forth slightly. 

            But he was straying from the point. What he meant to be doing at that moment was worrying frantically about Ginny, who hadn't returned, nearly two hours later. 

            He ceased with the impression of a caged tiger as the door to the cellblock opened admitting two dark robed figures, the first of which, Harry could spot from several yards away. The platinum hair was unmistakable. 

            Lucius Malfoy. 

            Draco also noted the entrance and stood. 

            As the senior Malfoy approached, Harry could make out the Hogwarts insignia on his black robe. So it was he who had been impersonating Snape. That would explain the degradation in temper that they'd witnessed since the beginning of term. 

            What alarmed Harry was not Lucius but the man behind him, or rather what the man was carrying. Ginny.

            With one massive hand the man unlocked the cell and deposited his load roughly on the flagstone floor. Lucius smiled slightly at this scene. He'd always had it out for the Weasleys. The girl was no exception. 

Harry was immediately at her side. Alarmed and angered, he noted a bruise beginning to form on her cheek and a small stream of blood stemming from a cut on her bottom lip. Her shirtsleeve was torn giving her the look of a mugging victim. But the most alarming bit was that she was unconscious, unmoving and very pale. 

Harry lifted up the palm of her right hand and examined a deep and gruesome cut that split the delicate skin there. Reaching down, he tore at the hem of his school robes, wrapping her injured hand gently with the makeshift bandage. He would never forgive himself for allowing her to walk into this. He just hoped that she would live. She looked as if she'd lost a serious amount of blood. 

***

             "Follow me, Draco," his father said with seething impatience. 

            Harry watched the entire exchange from the next cell, Ginny's limp form cradled in his arms. She wasn't waking up and her pulse was dangerously weak. 

            Draco placed his hands lazily into the pockets of his black trousers and remained rooted to the spot. 

            "I think I'll just stay here, if you don't mind," Draco drawled, pushing his father dangerously past the endurance of his patience. Harry wished that he wouldn't do that. Just go quietly, he prayed. A lot of people had already died tonight, Harry wasn't eager to see one do so in person. 

            Lucius opened the cell with a flick of his wand. His face was set into hard lines, eyes never leaving those of his son. Draco held his ground. Harry was surprised. He'd always taken Malfoy to be a big talking coward that hid behind his father's coat tails. What he was witnessing now was just the opposite of everything he'd ever held true about his number one enemy at school. Draco seemed to be standing against the Dark Side—and his father. 

            "When the Dark Lord bids you come, then boy, you come!" Lucius growled in a low voice, moving closer to his son. Draco didn't move, didn't flinch, he didn't even blink.

            Lucius glanced past his son and saw Imogen there, sitting on the floor. She appeared to be having problems with her back. It looked painful to move. Maybe, Harry thought, it was a side effect of the curse she'd been hit with. 

            A wicked smile passed briefly over Lucius' face as he stepped past Draco and leveled his wand at the helpless girl. She took a quick breath and closed her eyes, knowing full well that if she were hit, it would be the killing curse. 

            Draco made one deft movement, placing himself between the wand and the girl. Now panic was evident in his face that had been before now a mask of determined insolence. "No father. I beg you, don't do this. I'll come if the Dark Lord bids me." His voice carried a note of defeat as he followed his father and the monstrously huge henchman that had accompanied him off the cellblock. As he did, Harry caught a worried glance back at the frightened form of Imogen and then a very brief one directed at himself and Ginny. He'd better not try anything brave, Harry thought to himself. Draco's blood was the last thing he wanted on his hands. 

***

            With the constant down pour of rain, Harry couldn't tell exactly how late in the morning it was. He guessed it was somewhere between three and six in the morning as he looked out the barred window to his cell. He scanned the room. 

            Two cells over, Snape sat brooding in a corner, head resting against the bars and Hermione was asleep, thank goodness, on the stone slab in their cell. Harry doubted if he could have taken another minute of her psychotic rocking about. It was maddening to watch, knowing he couldn't get to her. He wanted her to know that he felt Ron would be all right (even though he couldn't be sure that he was). 

            Draco had returned to his cell next to Harry about twenty minutes ago, looking worse than Harry could have imagined any living person to look. Surely he couldn't have looked worse if the Hogwarts Express had run him over. Imogen sat stroking his hair and crying silently. Harry wished that there were something he could say to her, but their situation seemed hopeless. This whole place was hopeless. The Hufflepuffs that they'd shared a cell with were gone, as well as the other captives of various other houses occupying the outer cells. 

            The last tiny Gryffindor, Dennis Creevey, was dragged out no more than fifteen minutes ago. 

            The door to the cellblock opened, causing Harry to wonder morbidly who would be next? To his surprise he recognized all three of the entrants. Lucius Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew and Voldemort himself. 

            Unsurprisingly, all three men came to stand in front of Harry's cell. He stood quietly, leaving Ginny in a corner as not to draw attention to her. 

            Peter unlocked the door the same way as he had before, the sound of which caused the remainder of the conscious occupants of the cellblock to watch with silent attention. Professor Snape caught every movement. 

            The three men stood in the center of Harry's cell, giving him little chance to escape even if he wanted to. He didn't want to, as a matter of fact—he wouldn't leave Ginny and the others here to be slaughtered. 

            Voldemort stood directly in front of Harry, flanked by his two servants. There was something different to his appearance than when Harry had last seen him. He looked more solid, confident, intelligent—all around, more intimidating. Maybe he had returned to full powers as well as full physical strength. If so, then they were all in serious trouble. 

            Voldemort drew a scaly hand into his robes and produced his wand, aiming it at Harry with a smile. Before Harry could do or say anything, he was hit dead on with the Cruciatus Curse, bringing him to his kness. The white-hot pain that usually accompanied this curse was absent, however. Harry was temporarily dumbfounded, but as if in unconscious realization, his hand moved to the charm that was hidden under his robes. Ginny was not kidding when she'd said that it would ward off any curse or hex. This was a powerful amulet. His assailants were, likewise dumfounded. They threw other curses at his as well and were no more the wiser. 

            No more wiser, that is, until Lucius drew his attention to the corner where Ginny was stirring, clutching her stomach and breathing laboriously. Lucius drew his wand and leveled it at Harry as well. 

            "Crucio," he called in a dispassionate tone. 

            Harry felt the impact of it hit him but not its effects. He turned as he heard Ginny scream and then double over with pain. Lucius smiled.

            "Check him for an amulet, Wormtail," Lucius commanded with all the authority of his master. 

            Wormtail brought the elaborate ruby out from under Harry's robes and attempted to rip it from his neck, causing a blinding pain from his wound to shoot into the back of his skull. The amulet stayed in place. 

            Lucius moved to where Ginny knelt on the floor, hands outstretched in front of her attempting to stand. "Take it off," he demanded of Harry. 

            Ginny interrupted, ignoring the wand that was held directly at her forehead. 

            "Don't do it, Harry. Only the wearer or the maker can take it off," Ginny commanded with authority. 

            Harry was confused. She spoke with unconcern at the fact that Lucius Malfoy held a wand aimed at her. He was unsure whose directions to follow. 

            "Don't be stupid, Potter. I will kill her. Make no mistake there. Now take it off," Lucius spat impatiently.

            "And if he kills her," Voldemort interceded calmly, "your amulet will be worthless as it directs all effects of the curses to her." He smiled and turned to Ginny. 

"Powerful magic, Virginia. Consider me very impressed."

            "Your wrong," Ginny spat immediately, "the amulet will work for a few hours after I'm dead. I programmed it. It will work." She was breathing as if it was painful now. 

            Harry was angry. Angry that he was put in this situation, angry that she hadn't told him everything about the gift. If she had, he never would have accepted it. He was unsure that he could get either of them out of this situation as it were. But, if he could bargain his life for hers, he would do it.

            "Don't listen to them, Harry!" Ginny called desperately. 

            Lucius silence her with a vicious backhand to her cheek, sending her backward into the iron bars. 

            "If I take it off, you don't hurt Ginny," Harry said as Wormtail restrained him from attacking Lucius. 

            "It's a deal, Mr. Potter," Voldemort answered immediately. Harry couldn't be sure that he would keep his word, but reached back to remove the chain anyway. 

            Voldemort smiled victoriously as Harry dropped the magnificent jewel to the ground.

            "Perfect," Voldemort sneered, leveling his wand at Harry. Voldemort turned to Lucius. "Finish the girl," he commanded.

            Lucius smiled and answered, "With pleasure, my lord."

            As Lucius raised his wand to voice the incantation that would end Ginny, it was blasted out of his hand. 

            Dumbledore.

***

            Harry turned to see several armed wizards and witches flood into the scene. Lucius and Wormtail sprang into action, fighting three at a time. More seemed to be coming into the room behind them. Distracted, Voldemort had to dodge several curses from the wands of the enemy himself. Harry ducked the firefight and grabbed Ginny, pulling her out of the cell behind him. They ran for the cellblock entrance only to be greeted with a horde of Death Eaters just arriving on the scene. 

            A hand grabbed the two of them, shoving them into a corner. 

            It was Sirius.

            "Stay here," he commanded them. 

            Harry nodded, picking up a discarded wand from a fallen Death Eater. He shoved Ginny behind him and held the wand at ready. 

            Beyond that, Harry could see Remus hurriedly freeing the captives, so that they could move freely if fried upon. As he came to Snape, he reached out and threw Snape a spare wand. Both immediately took fire at the enemy. 

            Chaos unlike even that in the Great Hall earlier ensued. Half the time Harry couldn't tell who was firing upon whom. 

            Two Death Eaters spotted the pair in their corner and rounded on them. Harry gave Ginny a questioning glance that seemed to ask if she was up to the fight. 

            She nodded.

            Harry shouted, "Expeliarmus!"  Relieving one of their pursuers of his wand, he handed it to Ginny and pushed away from the wall in pursuit of the unarmed Death Eater who ran once he was without a wand. 

            Ginny kicked the smaller one, taking his feet out from under him. 

            Harry saw Imogen, the same vision from his dream. Of course, now he could clearly see whom she was fighting against. Harry joined her, disbanding robed figures twice their size together. 

            He scanned the room to make sure Ginny was holding her own without a problem. 

            He saw that Hermione had just woken up to the scene around her. She was searching frantically for a wand, or anything to defend herself with. Nothing. 

            Her pursuer was nearing with a menacing grin. 

            Harry would never make it there on time. He was relieved to see that Sirius was nearer and had just noticed the situation. Springing forward, he took out the approaching figure, freeing Hermione and arming her with the wand of her pursuer. 

            Harry heaved a sigh and ducked a hex. 

            He saw Wormtail in that instant. It was Remus he had in his silver grasp. Silver!

            It was the only thing that could kill Remus. 

            Panic overtook his other senses. He scanned frantically for Sirius, who was busy with three monstrous Death Eaters and a Dementor, Hermione beside him. 

            Dumbledore was likewise occupied and unaware of Remus' danger. 

            He looked back helplessly at Remus as he gasped and thrashed in Peter's grip. Beyond that he saw Imogen take a hit and fall, Draco lay motionless on the ground beside her. 

            Harry felt that he would never make it in time to save any of them. He tried to shout, alerting Sirius to Remus' situation. No good—he couldn't make himself heard above the din. 

            "Ah, Potter! I finally have you," an eerie voice said behind him. He turned slowly and was greeted with the sight of Voldemort, a satisfied grin on his lipless mouth. 

            He lifted his wand and muttered the incantation that made Harry's world come crashing down into black, noiseless darkness around him.


	13. A Rainbow Above You

Disclaimer: All characters and places of the Potter universe belong to Rowling. I'm just having some fun with them. No harm done, I'll return them all in perfect, working condition when I'm finished. (All that is except for Ron. I think I might have to keep him.)

Author's Note: Last chapter to this story, sadly. Oh, but wait! There's hope! Check out my next story, yes indeed! There's a sequel. As I said in my first author's note, I intend to make this a three part series. So, if you've enjoyed this fun little piece of fiction, stay tuned kids. There's more to come. 

Chapter Thirteen

A rainbow above you

"You'd better let somebody love you, before it's too late…" 

            Harry felt that all too familiar stab of pain at the back of his neck as he lifted his head to look around. If he remembered correctly, he should be dead. He was hit directly with the Killing Curse, he was sure of it. If this is what being dead felt like, Harry thought, it's not so bad, it sort of feels like nothing. He couldn't see really, everything was a blur, his right arm felt numb and his head pounding was the only thing that made him think that maybe he was still alive. Of course he was alive, he thought rationally as he tried to move, sending acute shocks of pain through his limbs. He felt with his free hand and discovered that his vision was only blurry because his glasses had been removed. They must be around somewhere. He had to see where he was. 

            He pulled himself slowly to a sitting position. His right arm seemed to be caught under something. He reached over and found his glasses on a table next to his bed. School? Was he back at school? That seemed too much to hope. Harry found that it was only a vague hope as the sterile white walls and curtains came into view telling him that he was in a hospital room somewhere. 

            Ginny's head was lying on the bed beside him, one arm he could feel, was draped across his knee. Her other hand was holding his, explaining why it was numb—it must be asleep. He hated that feeling, but couldn't chance to move it out from under her for fear that he would wake her. Despite the pain in his neck and spine, Harry sat up and leaned over Ginny examining her pale face, just to assure himself that she was not hurt. Other than a livid purple bruise on her left cheek and the cut on her lip she seemed fine, peaceful in sleep. Harry noted her bandaged hand that was resting on his knee. Only her small fingers peeked out from the mass of gauze wrapped around it. 

            He breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe, they were both safe. 

            His movement must have been enough to wake her as he felt her stir and lift her head off of the covers. 

            "Harry, are you awake?" she asked in a whisper, not wanting to wake him if he wasn't. 

            Harry nodded groggily and she smiled. 

            "How do you feel," she asked standing up and leaning over him to check his vitals.

            "Terrible. No, worse than that I think," Harry said shifting his pillows into a more comfortable position. Ginny helped him with the pillows and then laughed. 

            "Well, that's to be expected under the circumstances," she smiled down at him. 

            "Ginny, I have to talk to you," Harry said, rubbing his forehead. It hadn't bothered him so much back in Azkaban, but now that he'd had time to notice it, his scar was burning dully. 

            "What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked.

            "About the amulet," Harry elaborated. 

            A look of disdain flashed across Ginny's face briefly and she cut him off. 

            "Sirius asked me to let him know when you were awake. I think I'd better go and get him," she said, retreating before Harry had the chance to stop her. 

            She was angry with him, Harry could tell. 

***

            "Harry, I'm glad you're awake. There's a lot we were hoping you'd clear up for us," Sirius said with a relieved smile as he took a seat beside Harry's bed. "Hermione said that it was Voldemort she'd seen attack you. Is that correct?"

            "Yes, he used the Killing Curse," Harry said bluntly. He was more interested in his friends than Voldemort at the moment. "How is Hermione? And Ron, is Ron all right?" 

            Sirius placed a hand on Harry's arm and assured him that both of his friends were fine. Ron was found in the Great Hall among other survivors. He wasn't awake at the moment but Hermione was with him and was unhurt. Harry also learned that he'd been out cold for two days.

            "How about Imogen and Malfoy. I saw them fall. And Professor Lupin, did you get to Professor Lupin-," A dark expression passed over his godfather's face telling him that one or all of the people he'd just mentioned did not make it out of Azkaban alive. Harry watched Sirius with impatience as he sat next to him with a far off stare. 

            "I don't know who Imogen is, but if you could give me a last name, I'll look into it for you. If by Malfoy you mean Draco Malfoy, he's about to be released. He suffered a head injury but he should be fine. Professor Snape will be looking after him for a while, as his father seems a little too busy at the moment to bother." There was a note of disgust in his voice as he spoke. "As for Remus," he paused and closed his eyes. He would have to tell Harry. As much as he didn't want to say it out loud, he had to. For two days he'd been suspending the belief that his last true friend was dead. Saying it would bring about a finality that he just wasn't ready to deal with yet.    

            Harry didn't need him to say it. All he needed was a negative shake of the head. That was all Sirius could offer at the moment. Harry knew how it felt to be powerless in the face of evil. He'd watched people he loved and cared about die. It was a hard reality to be faced with: the fact that you can't save everyone, no matter how much they meant to you. 

For Sirius it was haunting. His life seemed to be littered with the memories of people he'd loved and lost. In the matter of only two short days, he'd lost one of the greatest and best of friends he'd ever had. He'd lost another school mate, Mundungus Fletcher, who'd also died shortly after the siege on Azkaban from complications of a curse, and he'd almost lost his reason for living, his purpose in life, his godson, Harry. He seemed to teeter on the breaking point. If Harry had died, and it was a pretty close fight, he might as well have flung himself over the edge without even blinking. He was that close. 

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I saw him. I saw him and I couldn't get to him. It's my fault. I should have known that Peter would go for Remus. His hand is silver, it would have been the only way-," Harry stopped at the weary expression on Sirius' face. He looked as if another word, another syllable would drive him over the edge of sanity. Harry fell silent. 

Sirius' mask of calm composure crumbled into one of intense anguish. He bent to Harry's level and gathered him into his arms hugging him so tight that Harry had to shut his eyes at the pain it produced in his neck and back. But it was comforting. Only Mrs. Weasley had ever hugged Harry like that before. 

"Don't be sorry, Harry. Remus knows there was nothing you could do. He doesn't blame you and neither do I. I'm glad I still have you. We all thought it was too late, but-I'm glad you're okay, Harry." He was bordering on insanity but Harry let him have it out. They'd all been under a vast amount of pressure in just a few short days. Sirius just needed one small moment to show weakness. He was always the strong and collected one. Harry was more than willing to be that for him if he'd needed it. He'd finally grasped the concept of family. 

After a moment Sirius stood and cleared his throat. "Until Ron wakes up, we can't finalize the funeral arrangements, so everything's sort of up in the air at the moment."

'Until Ron wakes up', what did that mean? Harry must have had a confused look on his face because Sirius explained immediately. 

"The ministry was attacked just before Hogwarts was invaded. Several Ministry workers were killed in the siege."

Harry felt his insides shift uncomfortably. Had Mr. Weasley been killed as well? He didn't think he could take it if another person died right now. It was all too much. His head swam with the realization. 

"Who was it?" Harry said, dreading the answer. 

"I don't think I'm the right one to tell you that, Harry. But Hermione would like to talk to you, if you're up to it," Sirius said with a glance at the door, where the puffy eyed and tired but familiar face of his friend peeked in. 

"Of course," Harry said, eager to talk to her, to see if she and Ron were all right. 

Sirius squeezed his hand and then left. He'd had a lot of things to attend to. Harry knew he couldn't stay for long. 

***

"How's Ron?" Harry asked as Hermione took Sirius' vacated seat. 

"Hasn't woken up yet. He has a lot more color now, though. Ginny's with him at the moment," Hermione said with her best attempt at a smile. 

"And you, Hermione? How are you holding up?" Harry asked tentatively. Before he'd even finished the sentence, silent tears began to form in her eyes. 

"Not very well, I'm afraid," she admitted wringing her hands methodically. "I talked to the Patils yesterday afternoon. They took Parvati off of the drip she was on. There was no hope for her. She was too far-gone. I tried to get to her, Harry. Really, I tried. The Dementor overtook both of us." She was almost hysterical now. 

Harry nodded silently. 

He knew she was not to blame, but also knew how it felt to be close to a situation like that. Constantly wondering if there was something different you could have done. Harry thought about his meeting with Cedric's parents after his death. He'd felt awful. Hermione felt the same at the moment, he was sure. 

Harry moved to one side of his bed inviting Hermione to sit next to him. She smiled gratefully, moving to sit next to him on the hospital bed, burying her head in his shoulder and weeping silently. Harry wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on hers. 

There was nothing more to do or say.

 He just let her cry. 

***

"Hermione! He's awake!" Ginny came barreling into the hospital room and stopped as she caught sight of Harry and Hermione. Asleep. She reproached herself for being less than considerate and was glad that her racket hadn't startled them. Hermione hadn't slept in days. Of course, none of them had, really.

She almost regretted having to wake them. They looked so peaceful and unaware of their problems back here on earth. 

With a sigh she shook Hermione's shoulder. 

"Hmmm?" Hermione muttered. 

Ginny apologized quickly and informed her of Ron's progress. Hermione jumped up suddenly asking what time it was. As Ginny told her, she realized that she'd been sleeping for forty-five minutes, record time for Hermione lately. 

She rushed hurriedly from the room and then dashed back to the door to ask Ginny to stay with Harry. As if Ginny needed asking. She glanced over at Harry who remained asleep. She pulled the covers back up to his chest and moved his arm so that it wasn't hanging off the bed. 

She sat in the chair beside the bed and watched him. There was so much she needed to tell him but there was never an opportunity suitable. For instance, at this very moment she knew that her mother and Hermione were informing Ron that their older brother, Percy had been killed in the attack on the Ministry. She didn't want to be the one to tell Harry. She hoped that he would remain asleep until Hermione returned. 

Running on auto kept Ginny alert enough to perform her duties but dead enough to ignore the pain. She hadn't believed her mother and father when they'd both told her about Percy. She hadn't even been back from Azkaban for twenty minutes when she'd gotten the news. She insisted that her dad take her along to identify the body. She was firm on this point. She would never really believe it until she saw him for herself. She'd been sick immediately afterward. 

Harry was stirring. Oh God! She knew what would be coming next. The amulet, he would want to know why she'd kept its real powers from him. He would be angry. Another part of her rationalized, she was mad at him as well for ignoring her and taking it off. Why did he always feel that he needed to be so bloody brave and noble all the time? He'd almost died. He was far more important than her. It was reckless the way he threw his life around, really. 

"Hermione had to leave," Ginny said mechanically as Harry turned and spotted her, "Ron's awake, she's with him now."

"Well, I wanted to see you anyway," Harry said and smiled at her. 

She did not smile back. 

She would have done anything for him to smile like that a year ago, before everything happened. It was still charming but she needed to distance herself from him. She was really, far more dangerous to him than he realized. 

"Why did you do it, Harry?" Ginny asked, sounding a little angrier than she'd intended. 

"Do what, Ginny?" he asked, smile replaced by a confused frown. 

"The amulet. Why did you ignore me? I said not to take it off."

 "They would have killed you if I hadn't and it would have killed you if I'd kept it on," he said, raising his voice to match hers. He was getting just as upset as she was. 

"Then you should have let me die! Harry, you really don't know what you've done. I will only hurt you. Don't you understand that?" she said frantically. It frightened Harry a little to see her so adamant about her own death. He couldn't hurt her and vice-versa. He loved her. Why wouldn't she allow herself to see that? There was only one possibility and Harry wasn't willing to admit it. She didn't love him. 

"What is all of this shouting, Virginia Ellen Weasley?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a thoroughly shocked voice as she came through the door. "How could you yell at one of the patients? At Harry! Explain yourself young lady!"

Ginny stopped to look at her mother and then brushed past her, excusing herself with, "I have to make my rounds." 

Molly looked after her and then came to sit next to the shell shocked Harry.

***

"You'll have to excuse her, dear. She's been under a lot of stress, you understand. With all of this business and her brother dying and dear Professor Lupin, she was always so fond of him," she stopped, producing a tissue to wipe her eyes. "She's been volunteering as and assistant on top of it all." She shook her head at the door that Ginny had just left. 

Harry knew that it was rude to interrupt but he couldn't take it anymore, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, her brother died? Ron? That's not possible-." 

Molly cut him off with a shake of her head, "No, Harry. Not Ron, dear. Percy. The Ministry was ambushed the night you poor dears were attacked. He died along with a few others at Ministry. Professor Dumbledore, bless his heart, tried to help but there where too many for even a great wizard such as himself."

"The Headmaster was at the Ministry?" Harry asked, putting the pieces together. 

"Yes, and he feels awful about leaving you dears on your own," she added placing a hand over her heart. 

"Have you seen Ron?" He asked as he remembered that he'd just woken up. 

"Yes, dear. Ron is perfectly fine. Would you like to see him," she asked with the smallest of smiles. Harry nodded, eager to see his friend. "Of course you may, dear. But after you eat." She stepped out into the hall and forcefully pulled an orderly aside, asking that Harry be brought some food. "It's not as good as mine, dear, but it'll do," she said as the orderly came back with a tray. 

Ginny followed shortly after the busy man whisked out and announced to her mother that the Grangers had arrived and Penelope was asking for her. 

"I'll be right back, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, gently patting Harry's arm and bustled out into the lobby. 

Ginny stood awkwardly in the doorway, but was relieved at not having the opportunity to speak or be spoken to. Dumbledore emerged in the doorway behind her and asked for a private word. Ginny seemed more than happy to oblige. 

***

"I was wondering if you could clear up a few matters for me, Harry," the weary Headmaster asked producing Ginny's gift she'd given to Harry and taking the vacant seat next to Harry. Placing it gently on the table beside the bed he surveyed Harry guiltily.

Harry heaved a sigh and sat up. He knew what was coming, the customary chat that seemed to take place after some dastardly event that usually punctuated his year at Hogwarts, as it had for every year he'd attended there. Just once, he'd like to have a normal year with no ominous conversation with the Headmaster at the end of it. 

"Go ahead, Professor," Harry said dully. 

"Let me see if I've put the pieces together correctly. Stop me if I miss anything."

Harry nodded.

"Miss Weasley made this for you with Professor Flitwick's help. She didn't fully explain how it worked to you for fear that you would never accept it, quite brilliant of her, really. I never realized what a determined and intelligent girl she was, kind of course, caring, yes, naturally. But when it comes to you she can be very narrow sighted." He stopped to check Harry's expression with a twinkle in his spectacle-framed eyes. So he suspected that he'd had feelings for her. Great. What a mystery. 

"Yes, she was willing to spare you pain and death at the expense of her own, very noble of her, or very desperate. I'm not quite certain which it is myself. She's determined to keep her secrets. However, Voldemort was lying in wait, as we suspected he would be. Fudge, God rest his foolish soul, would not listen to reason and take the Dementors out of Azkaban. Voldemort used them to strike at the Ministry first as it had been divided by followers of both Fudge and himself and those loyal to justice, truth, the overall good of human kind and all that goes along with it, people like Mr. Weasley and his son." 

Dumbledore betrayed a hint of regret at the mention, but recovered almost instantly. "As I was out visiting the Ministry at the time of the attack, Voldemort chose that moment to get to you at the school. Lucius Malfoy knew that I was not present to protect you and so struck accordingly. Lucius Malfoy was masquerading as one of our teachers. A teacher, loyal and trusted, had been spying on Voldemort and his inner circle, disguised as a Death Eater. Crouch, Jr. to be precise. He'd been doing it all summer. I regret that I never knew he was in any danger."

"But," Harry interrupted, "the school is protected. How could they all have just Apparated in like that?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, the school has defenses, called wards. When Lucius Malfoy posed as Porofessor Snape, through a Polyjuice mixture, he was able to disassemble the recent security measures that we put in place as well as those that have existed for centuries. I regret that I let him slip unnoticed into my school. A lot could have been avoided if I had taken the time to really look at him. I always thought I knew Professor Snape well enough to tell if there was an impersonator, but alas! Lucius Malfoy was a good pretender. He fooled me and the rest of the staff." He sat in quiet reflection for a moment before continuing,

            "The fact still remains that we have no idea how you survived the Killing Curse as your defenses had weakened with Voldemort's regeneration. As I suppose it, he took a little of the curse's power on himself. He'd collapsed just as you had. His Death Eaters pulled out soon after that. Wormtail Apparated away with his motionless master before I had a chance to investigate further. You are still linked to him, Harry, even more so now, you share the same blood. That's a very strong form of magic," Dumbledore finished as Harry listened intently. It all made sense except the part where he was still alive. Harry still couldn't fathom how he'd gotten out of there with his life. In the back of his mind he'd hoped that Voldemort had perished along with the rest of his evil band, but he knew that this was too much to wish for. He was still out there. 

            "I'm very sorry that I wasn't there to protect all of you. My students are my life and I care about each and every one of you. Please know that, Harry." Dumbledore paused as Harry nodded. He'd known that instinctively somehow. "I've had to let countless of my loved ones go. Numerous students died two days ago. That was my fault and I will never live to see a day where I can forgive myself for that." 

            Dumbledore got up quickly and exited the hospital room. Harry did not see the tears forming in the old man's eyes. He really had regretted not being there for his students, he always would. 

***

            Harry dressed dispassionately in black trousers and a shirt and sweater of the same color. All of this black, along with that of his hair, lent a washed out and weary pallor to his skin. The long period of mourning that they'd entered into seemed to have no ending in sight. They'd been to at least five funerals and countless memorial services. This would be the hardest of them all. 

            Harry really didn't mind. It was a way to remember all of these innocent, would-be saints and heroes that seemed to live to meet a sad end. Harry felt as though he was one of them simply waiting his turn. But the thing about the collective mourning of the whole community over so many lost at once was that Harry was not alienated. He was just one in a sea of people wearing black. It gave him a chance to regret the loss of the people he'd loved openly, instead of putting on a face that seemed to say everything was okay so stop asking. He'd had to do that with Cedric. Oh, he'd felt the loss all right. But a loss he'd felt and witnessed all on his own, a place that no one else could reach. 

            Today a lot of people, people who loved Remus Lupin would be in that place, with him and he wouldn't be alone. He'd blend in, for once in his life. 

            He walked slowly down to the kitchen where Sirius was drinking his tea distractedly, two piles of papers in front of him. They were mostly legal documents that he'd been bent over for two days. Case files in manila folders, yellowing Daily Prophet articles. Boxes of photos were stacked neatly in a chair next to him. This was what Sirius did before Azkaban. Harry couldn't believe it. It still looked strange to him. Brow furrowed as he poured over tiny print and large stacks of boring legalese. He'd been an attorney for the Ministry before it all. He insisted that he would never go back to that life. Twenty hours of everyday spent hunched over other people's problems. Now he was reviewing his own case, the one that never made it to trial. He was free to do what he liked now, no more hiding with the way things were at the Ministry. Plus, there were witnesses, scores of witnesses. Peter, in a fit of over zealous loyalty to his master, murdered Cornelius Fudge and was also seen at Azkaban, though Lucius Malfoy escaped undetected. Sirius was bound to find both of them, and their leader.

            Harry was still getting used to the new place. He sometimes lost his way to his room or the kitchen or the bathroom. The place was big. Sirius didn't seem too comfortable in it either. Although Harry didn't know the story, Sirius had given him some cryptic information about it. The house was his father's. Trent Black was President of a large bank in London, a muggle. For some reason that Harry chose not to canvas at the moment, Sirius did not have fond memories of this place or its former owner. He'd never spent more than two days in it after his father died when he was five years of age. 

            They would be moving again after Sirius had set all of his affairs in order. The house, Hampstead Green Park, would be sold at auction. Now that Sirius had it back along with his other possessions and immense amount of back pay and lost wages, this was not something he wanted to keep around. It's all for the best, Harry reasoned. Sirius was unhappy here and Harry was none too fond of the place either. 

            Harry sat at the polished oak table and pulled the most recent issue of the Prophet in front of him, the issue that ran after the siege on the Ministry and Azkaban. 

**_Victims of the attack on the Ministry of Magic:_**

(Lovely, he thought, they'd give us a run down of whose out for the count. He shook his head and read on.)

Timothy S. Anderson, Dept. of the Mysteries 

_Sarah C. Bright, Secretary to Ministry Staff Advisor_

_Collin Brooks, Custodial _

_Camilla C. Cresley, Dept. of the Mysteries_

David Crowley, Accidental Magic Reversal Squad Amos C. Diggory, Dept. For the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures 

_Lincoln M. Durham, Committee on Experimental Charms_

_Mundungus G. Fletcher, Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement_

_Theresa Frond, Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement_

_Cornelius R. Fudge, Minister of Magic… _

And the list went on interminably. Percy's name was on it, spelled wrong of course. Crouch had gone around for a year referring to him as Weatherby. He'd been the target of numerous jokes on the subject forever. Harry remembered how funny it had been at the time. Fred and George had loved to push his buttons. It was visible at yesterday's memorial service for their older brother that the two of them regretted not taking him seriously. He didn't know much about siblings, but he was sure Percy knew it was just their way of caring. 

All of the Weasleys had taken the loss pretty hard. Harry had seen Ginny at the funeral. He was surprised at how ill she'd looked. She never cried once though, giving rise to concern for Harry. She seemed to be going through the motions of life but had given up the bit where you actually live. There was nothing he could do. He'd already tried to talk to her. She wouldn't forgive him for choosing to forfeit his safety for her own, yet she'd wanted to do the same for him in giving him the amulet. He couldn't take the double standard. 

Of those that lost their lives at Hogwarts and Azkaban, the ones Harry felt the most were Parvati Patil who'd received the Dementor's Kiss, Dennis Creevey who Voldemort had killed along with scores of others when they'd refused his legion and creed, Alicia Spinnet who Harry had always seen as a big sister, dispensing advice and the odd Quidditch tip, she was taken out by the Killing Curse, Fred had informed him yesterday at the funeral, Cho Chang, who'd just given up on it all and did not bother to fight back and Dean Thomas, who would be remembered as one of those legendary heroes, he'd saved five lower year students, seeing them safely out of the castle before he was struck down in the end.

Their voids would be felt in the halls of the school interminably. 

"Ready to go, Harry? Its nearly time," Sirius asked, not looking up from the file he was scanning, it was his own, a thick file documenting every one of his charges: Twelve Counts of Murder, Two Counts of Conspiracy to Murder and one Count of Attempted Conspiracy to Murder, a long rap sheet for an innocent man.

 "Yep, nearly," Harry said tossing the paper aside and throwing back the rest of his tea. 

***

It was a perfect late May morning. Too perfect in Harry's opinion, the air had the faint smell of wildflowers on the gentle breeze. The more elaborate bouquets that lined the mahogany coffin danced gaily around it. Harry sat next to Sirius, hands folded in his lap, he stared at the grass that swayed at his feet as some people he'd never seen before spoke in succession about the 'dearly departed.' It sounded like bullshit in Harry's opinion. He wondered if half of the people present would still be here if they knew about his 'condition'. He'd always been persecuted and went through life loving everyone, treating them fairly when they would just as soon slam the door in his face. Harry had loved Remus. He was Harry's first tangible and real link to his father. He'd helped him through a time when he'd thought his godfather had betrayed his parents and was hunting him. He'd come to save him last week and lost his life for it. Harry would always love Remus. 

He lifted his head to pay attention as Dumbledore got slowly to his feet and neared the coffin. He turned to speak. 

"Many of you will never realize just how lucky you have been to know this man. The realization of it has already passed you by. It will never come again. Others knew the real Remus—intelligent bordering on genius, quiet, gentle; had a certain knack for causing mischief and coming out of it as innocent as a boy angel, yet never allowing his friends to take the rap for something that he'd had a hand in as well," Dumbledore paused to smile in Sirius' direction. Sirius nodded his agreement. "Loyal," he continued, "loyal to his friends even when it seemed that they were less than deserving of it. Passionate about his work and his students, some of his happiest days where when he was teaching, teaching some of you out there and some who are no longer with us," his expression darkened and he paused for composure. Harry watched his every move, listened to every syllable. "Remus," he said, turning to speak, placing a hand on the shiny, polished wood of the casket, "we will not forget all that you have done for those you loved. Do not forget us."

Harry and Sirius stood by the casket as the mourners moved past and fizzled out. The funeral was over and most people had gone. Harry sat in a chair next to Arabella Figg and watched Sirius silently as he talked with a bent elderly lady, Remus' mother. She handed him a case and they embraced. She walked away dabbing at her eyes. 

Sirius opened the case and removed the walnut hued violin that it contained. Surprising! Sirius knew how to play it—extremely well. 

Arabella wept silently at Harry's side as the sounds of 'Danny Boy' drifted past them on the air. Harry had often heard Remus whistling that tune as he graded essays and the like. He smiled.

When Sirius had finished, he tossed both violin and bow into the six-foot hole that Remus lie at the bottom of. Harry heard him say, "It's yours now friend. Play it well in heaven."

He moved to where the last two mourners sat and placed a hand on Arabella's shoulder, which she covered with one of her own, burying her face in the other as she cried silently. 

Harry walked back to the car lined avenue beside a stoic Sirius when, out of nowhere, he quoted Christ, saying, "Come to me all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

***

_"Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?_

_You've been out ridin' fences_

_For so long now_

_Oh, and you're a hard one_

_But I know that you've got your reasons_

_The things that are pleasin' you_

_Can hurt you somehow_

_Don't you draw the Queen of Diamonds boy,_

_She'll beat you if she's able_

_You know the Queen of Hearts is always your best bet_

_Now it seems to me some fine things _

_Have been laid upon your table_

_But you only want the ones that you can't get_

_Desperado, you ain't getting no younger_

_Your pain and your hunger_

_They're drivin' you home_

_ And freedom, oh freedom_

_Well that's just some people talkin' _

_Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone_

_Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime?_

_The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine_

_It's hard to tell the nighttime from the day_

_And you're losin' all your highs and lows_

_Ain't it funny how the feelin' goes away?_

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?_

_Come down from your fences-_

_Open the gates_

_It may be rainin' _

_But there's a rainbow above you_

_You'd better let somebody love you_

_Before it's too late."_

'Desperado' by The Eagles


End file.
